Chapter 4
"Taketori-sama?"
He twitched, thankfully it was not overly obvious, not that they would have said anything if it had been, but still it wouldn't have looked good. Honestly, he was beginning to abhor the name "Taketori" and he was starting to think he would never get used to people calling him that even if no one ever referred to him by another name ever again. He always expected that someone else would turn and answer, someone else that was not he because who was this "Taketori" person, anyway? It didn't make sense to him as if it could not completely register in his mind that HE was this illusive individual that others feared and obeyed without question. Yes, he was definitely beginning to hate that name. Omi-sama had a particularly nice ring to it, though. Alas, no one would ever call him that, not even if he trained them to, though that might be a good idea.
"Taketori-sama?" Worried, this time.
Mamoru shook his head, realizing that not only had he spaced out, but that he had been grinning insanely, as well. It took an effort to bite back a laugh that had almost escaped his mouth knowing it would not have sounded entirely sane. Taketoris did not smile, nor did they laugh, they just looked stern and evil and -
He squeaked and bit his lip hard, for some reason finding that image extremely amusing. A black-clad man, with steely eyes glaring at everyone and people running in fear as if Godzilla had suddenly appeared to step upon them! That would be funny, too! Taketorizilla, perhaps! Even better! He just had to grow some green scales, become a couple hundred feet taller and gain a few tons.
The dark-clad man before him stared at him, seemingly horrified, which did not help him to better control himself. Oh, gods, was he having a breakdown here and now? That was not very Taketori like as Taketoris were all buff and macho and - and pig-headed idiots and he was one of them and damn it he should be acting exactly like them! That, of course, only amused him further, making him laugh so hard that he was hyperventilating.
"Sir, are you okay?"
Annoyed, Mamoru strangled Omi, stifling him completely. That boy would make a fool out of him, yet! He turned his attention back to the man before him as a thought briefly flitted though his head: maybe he should pour that pitcher of cold water over his head and maybe that would - but, no, that was Omi talking, not him. "I'm fine," he said briskly, glaring at the man until he looked away, embarrassed. "What did you want?"
"Well, sir, these just - "
He snatched the file from the man's hand, curtly dismissing him. When he didn't leave immediately he glared at him again. "Was that all?" It was a dismissal.
"Y-yes sir." The man backed away hurriedly, shutting the door behind him.
Omi burst into giggles. Little Omi, striking fear into the hearts of big, buff solider-like guards without even having to kill a few of them first. Simply amusing.
It occurred to him that he was going insane.
Oddly enough, that didn't bother him at all. Maybe insanity was more fun than real life. Maybe insanity could bring him happiness as life had not.
He flipped the file open and glared at it for a quite some time, allowing the words before him to slowly sink into his mind, into his conscious mind - both of them. Some of his men, his delightful little spies, had gotten some rather interesting pictures for him and he felt his heart rate increasing even though only Omi recognized the people shown.
There was a cocky redhead with a smirk on his face, his arm thrown back as if he were posing for the picture and knowing him, he probably was. He had probably known they were there and had not felt the need to kill them; lucky spies. Another was a decent close up of a man with narrowed eyes and a faint scowl marring his otherwise handsome features. Both of them were tall and striking in their own way, both handsome and deadly, though at a glance they might have seemed harmless enough. He knew far better than that, though.
Finally there was a young man, a few years his junior - he wasn't certain, exactly how much younger he was, having never had the time for pleasantries such as determining his age - with deep eyes that held everything and nothing at the same time. That seemingly blank gaze held his attention for far longer than he really would have liked it to, it drew him in and gave him the desire to look further into them, into him. What was behind those eyes into the clever mind, beyond the power and the barely controlled rage that lingered just below the surface? Or, was that even what it was or was he just imposing his own attributes onto someone else because he wanted them to be there, wanted to not be the only one that was slowly coming apart, slowly losing his mind?
They were Schwartz, of course. Schuldig, Crawford, and Nagi. Their forth member, Farfello, was not pictured but it was pretty much a certainty that he was lurking around somewhere being, well, crazy.
So. Esset had decided to involve Schwartz after all and now they were here and they would have to be dealt with. Rosenkreuz was known to have members with special abilities, but none of them could ever match the powers of Schwartz. If their attention could only be directed to something else, something else that would benefit Schwartz more than whatever little mission they were currently on then they might very well have a chance. They wouldn't involve themselves, no matter what Esset said, unless they wanted to and their loyalty had always been shaky, at best.
One thing was certain and that was that the members of Schwartz stuck together. If he could convince just one of them then the else might very well fall into place. The problem with that was getting close enough to them without actually getting killed in the process. Of course, that wouldn't be an entirely undesirable ending, but perhaps he was not yet through living and he simply had not yet encountered the one thing that he could actually live for and look forward to.
No, he wasn't ready to die yet. Omi still had hope and that had to be enough for both of them.
He stood, opening his mouth, ready to summon one of his ever-lurking guards/servants, or, at he liked to call them, minions. Minions. It just sounded more pleasant, as if he had more power over them than if he said they were "guards" and minions were good. They were obedient and loyal and they licked his boots and groveled like pathetic little wretches that -
"Stop it, Taketori," he growled, shaking his head. There was no way he was letting him get out of hand - he would not be like the majority of his now mostly deceased family. Just because he was a Taketori by blood did not mean he had to be one by deed, as well. He was not like them! He was different! OMI was different and he was Omi!
There was a brief struggle, but eventually Mamoru wrestled back control, if only briefly. He stalked to the door and flung it over, making the two men standing watch outside of his door jump in fright as they hastily stood to greet him. There were perfect chimes of, "Taketori-sama!" that echoed in his mind, satisfying him for some reason.
"I've just received information that the group Schwartz is in the area. I want you to inform everyone to remain on the alert because these are very dangerous, very powerful people and should they move against us it could make things very difficult for us." Both of the men nodded in unison, making him think they were exactly as pathetic as he thought they were. Just your basic, dispensable, run-of-the-mill minions that were incapable of thinking for themselves but could carry out detailed orders surprisingly well. "Also, make sure some men are sent to watch their activity and to keep me up to date on any of their actions or movements. We need to be able to predict what they are going to do before they do it in hopes of being able to intervene if it becomes necessary."
Mamoru disappeared back into the room, returning to his desk where he organized his thoughts and words into an orderly, comprehensive form. These were put into orders that were then sent out to the groups that would be able to most effectively deal with them. There had recently been more movement in Esset so he could not stretch his people too thin, but neither could he let Schwartz go unobserved - they could not afford to not watch them. After all, if they should decide to act they had to at least have some idea what they were going to do and where they could expect damage. If possible, they would attempt to avoid a direct confrontation with them.
Kritiker could not afford to lose too many of their resources. They were still a very profitable organization and they could stand very well on their own, but it was still better not to waste what they had, no matter how much was available for them to use. Waste not want not.
Of course, it was not a big deal if a minion or two fell, but in mass amounts that was never good. It cost money to train new minions and to find ones that would be absolutely loyal to the Taketori family and everything that they stood for. If what they stood for happened to be bad, it didn't matter because they had to obey no matter what.
Which was wrong! Utterly wrong! Every single life was precious and no one deserved to die unless their actions and choices clearly warranted it! That was what they stood for - justice! Was it fitting that they not care if a few lives were lost?
Omi was soft! Too soft and he needed to change, needed to give up and give in to Mamoru because he was the dominant personality and he would eventually win out. There was no doubt about that.
NO! Can't win, won't let that happen! Not possible, not probable, not going to happen! It wasn't fair, any of it, but in this justice would win out because he was not Mamoru, he was Omi, only Omi and that was the honest truth! He was a good person and that was all there was to it!
An assassin is a good person? Ha!
An evil person that cares nothing for the lives of others - lives that are sacred, lives of those that have done nothing wrong but obey - should win? There is no justice in that!
There is NO justice!
He would not listen to that! He fought back with avengeance and finally regained control, his eyes narrowing sharply. Omi tore off his suit jacket and marched to his closet, flinging the door open. Next to the proper row of suits were the outfits that boarded on outrageous, even scandalous, outfits of a seemingly entirely different person; one would have thought separate people shared the closet. He carefully selected an appropriately flashy, yet dark outfit that would best suit his frame and set off his eyes at the same time.
Omi would hunt tonight because the force that Mamoru wielded through Kritiker could solve not everything. He would see for himself what Schwartz was up to and if there was anything he could do to stop them or at least delay them. Omi was not afraid; people were only afraid when they had something they had to live for.
A glance at the clock on his deck showed that it was still early yet. He set out his chosen outfit as he turned his attention back to the report. It told exactly where Schwartz was within one of Esset's building and all he had to do was go there and find them, see what they were up to. How could he trust those that worked for Mamoru? Seeing was believing, after all.