Chapter 8
Makoto had awoken with a hangover of the likes he had never known. Which, when he thought about it, really wasn't saying much. He had expected the hangover, he had drunk over half a bottle of whiskey between 1:00 am and 4:00am and he would have shocked if he had escaped without some punishment from his abused body. He had also thought that he would wake up feeling guilty and was very surprised, when the room had stopped spinning enough that he could think, that he didn't feel the slightest shred of guilt. He was even more surprised that he was still angry, a feeling that he wasn't really familiar with, which again really wasn't saying much, but he was not sure if he was angry at Asuka or himself.
Laying on the couch with one foot planted firmly on the floor, to assure his dizzy head that he wasn't on some surrealist carnival ride, he had forgotten for a moment that Asuka had left for the weekend. He had dreaded getting up, and not because he was afraid that doing so would make him wretchedly ill, but because he didn't want to have to face her. He had seen her face in his mind, the look of disapproval etched into it and had dreaded having to deal with her. It was only when he remembered that she was gone that he had found the motivation to force himself off the couch.
Using the wall for support he had made his way into the kitchen and began to pull things from the cabinets. Before he realized it he had a tall glass full of beef stock, tomato soup from a can, wasabi, tobacco, and a raw egg, in his hand. The reddish brown concoction looked awful. The raw egg staring up at him from where it floated on the top like a single accusatory eye. With a shrug he forced himself to down the drink as quickly as possible. Surprised, when he was done, that it hadn't tasted nearly as bad as it looked. He was even more surprised when half an hour later it had actually worked in reducing his hangover to something that was reasonably tolerable.
He had taken a long hot shower and then let himself air dry, enjoying walking around the apartment naked. He didn't know why he had never done it before, it was not like he and Asuka didn't see each other naked all the time. But that train of thought had started him thinking about the dreams that he had been having. He had to figure out a way to stop them. Well maybe not stop them but at least get them to be a little less physical, but he wasn't really sure how to do that. What he did know for certain was that the trigger had been seeing the two men at the hospital, both the gaijin and the comatose Japanese man who had a counterfeit German name.
Two hours after that realization he was standing outside of the hospital doors, cigarette in his mouth, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he was there when his wife was not working. It would be impossible for him to be able to get onto the fourth floor and into the private room without running into at least one person who would know him. He supposed he could tell the truth if anyone questioned him, but he really didn't want Asuka to find out that he was there to visit someone who he remembered from his old life, no matter how vague that remembrance was. He didn't think it would sit well with her.
The anger suddenly flared again. Why should he feel ashamed at trying to remember his past? It wasn't like Asuka didn't know that it was a possibility when she had gotten involved with him. Hell, she worked with people who were in the same situation as him all the time. She had been his attending nurse, she had more experience with amnesia and recovery from it that he did. Although, now that he thought about it, she had never really done anything to encourage him to remember his past, she always told him not to push himself, not to dwell on it, to embrace his new life, to embrace her. For the first time since waking up and seeing Asuka standing above him, Makoto felt that he might have been taken advantage of. Not willing to dwell on that thought or the barrage of emotions that were beginning to swell inside of himself he dropped his cigarette and walked into the hospital.
Makoto has no problem getting off of the elevator when it reaches the forth floor, it is truly amazing what a powerful motivation anger is. Before he starts down the hallway he takes a deep breath and forces his face into a cheery smile that he hopes reaches his eyes. Like he had the week before he walks the sterile white corridor as if he belongs there and no where else.
"Makoto?" The middle aged woman at the nurses desk says with surprise, "Asuka isn't here."
"Kuri!" Makoto leans over the station and smiles down brightly at the seated woman, earning himself a warm smile in return, "How are you? I heard you had gotten sick? I do hope you are better now." He makes a show of reaching over the counter and placing his hand on the woman's before leaning over to speak to her in a low voice so that only she will be able to hear him, "You know this place just doesn't seem to be able to function without you."
"I am better," The woman blushes, "thank you for asking."
"Well you must make sure you take care of yourself!" Makoto winks at her, "Got to have someone around here to keep my Asuka in line you know." This earns him a giggle, something in the two months that he had been a conscious patient in the ward, he had never seen the woman do.
Taking a chance Makoto continues down the hall without ever answering Kuri's question as to why he is there. He holds his breath as he walks waiting for her to call after him. When he is far enough down the corridor to know that he has successfully side tracked her he lets his breath out. That was much easier than he had expected. Who would have thought that a little bit of flirting could be so effective? He makes a mental note of this for future reference.
He passes one more nurse in the hallway but she is not someone who he recognizes, still feeling cocky from how well he managed to deflect Kuri's question, he smiles and winks at the young woman. Her tired face immediately brightens and she returns his smile and slips into a room across the hall. Oh yes, the power of flirting is good.
Before he enters the private room he looks casually up and down the hallway to make sure that he does not see anyone who would recognize him. Satisfied that he is not being observed he slips into the open door way. He half expects to find the orange haired foreigner in the room and is pleased when he does not. He should want to see the man he supposes. After all, he might be able to answer some questions, where as the still man in the bed obviously cannot. But Makoto remembers the way the gaijin had looked at him and the insanity he had seen in those blue eyes. Even if it were for only a flash it had left him with the feeling that the German was a dangerous person and someone who he is better off not crossing.
He walks as quietly as he can over to the side of the wooden bed that looks so out of place in the hospital. He knows that there is no need to be so quiet, that the man in the bed wouldn't be disturbed if he were a one man marching band, but he feels better acting as if he is not disrupting someone's sleep. He leans over the pale face and stares at the passive features. The sense of familiarity is as strong as it was the week before. He can almost image what the face would look like when animated. Before he realizes that he is doing it he has brushed the long messy bangs off of the young man's face. There are no visible lines on the man's pale forehead, it is smooth like glass. Makoto cannot help but let his fingers brush across the skin and then trace over one of the fine eye brows.
"Your hair used to be lighter," He whispers, and realizes his mistake even as he speaks, "No not lighter, redder. You had bright red hair, didn't you?"
Makoto bites his lip and glances nervously at the door to the hallway before letting his hand fall down to the gray pajama top. His fingers are trembling as he begins to undo the buttons. His heart thundering in his chest, "I am sorry about this," he whispers again, "I am not molesting you or anything, I swear, I just have to see something."
After what seems like an eternity he has undone the top three buttons of the shirt. Carefully he pushes the material over to the side revealing a pale hairless chest. There are a lot of scars on the porcelain skin, almost as many as he has himself, but Makoto doesn't pay attention to most of them, instead he focuses on the skin above the pale pink left nipple, where he sees what he was looking for, a raised scar, shapes like a kiss. He cannot help bit let his fingers brush over the marred skin. The skin on the man's chest is much warmer than the skin on his face and Makoto can feel it rise and fall as the man breathes softly. Suddenly very embarrassed at the liberty he has taken Makoto draws his hand back and with his own breath coming in shallow gasps he rebuttons the top.
He knows now, without a doubt that he knows this man. But he is still not sure if he is the lover who has taken over his dreams. Makoto glances at the door again before he reaches down to take hold of a pale long fingered hand. Gently he lifts the slack hand off of the bed and turns it over so that he can look at the palm. With his thumb he feels the heel of the hand and the cushions of flesh right below where the fingers meet the palm. The hand is completely soft, not a sign of callous on them. A heavy disappointment falls over him and he is startled by it. He should be glad if this is not the person from his dreams. It proves that he might not be dreaming about a man at all. But even as he thinks this, another part of his mind tells him that a year of dormancy would eradicate calluses, that the softness of the hand doesn't mean anything.
Without warning the fine fingers clamp shut over Makoto's golden digits making him jump back startled, "Fuck Aya!" He yelps, "Don't fucking scare me like that!"
Aya. He just called the man Aya. Makoto's heart is racing both from the scare as well as the certainty that he has gotten the man's name right. The man's name is Aya. Makoto notices that the long fingered hand, now relaxed again is still clasped within his own, even in his alarmed state Makoto did not drop it. Carefully, he pulls his fingers free from the pale hand. He places it back down on the bed and peers intently at the man's face. He cannot help but think on some level that the unaware Aya has frightened him on purpose. He is about to tell the man so when he is aware that someone else has entered the room.
Stepping away from the bed Makoto looks up to see the young nurse who he had winked at standing in the doorway. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, trying his best to make it look as though he had not just been fondling the comatose body laying before him.
"Is everything alright?" Her voice sounds concerned, but not accusatory.
"Yeah," Makoto makes himself grin wolfishly, "he just moved. It scared me."
"Oh," The young nurse walks over to the bed and gently places her hand onto a pale wrist and takes his pulse. "It can be alarming when that happens. He's been having a lot of spasms this week."
"Does that mean he is waking up?" Makoto is aware that he sounds too eager.
"No," The nurse suddenly looks sad, "it is just something that happens. Sometimes coma victims brains are sending out random electrical impulses or it could be a sign of muscular atrophy setting in." She gently places Aya's wrist back on the bed and adjusts the sheet that is covering his torso. "This poor thing has been here for a year, I think his tendons are starting to tighten and so his muscles are having spasms as they tighten."
"He clutched ." Makoto doesn't want to tell the woman that he was holding hands with the comatose man, "he clenched and unclenched his hand."
"He's been doing that quite a bit," The nurse begins to check the bags that are hanging to the side of the bed, the one that leads to Aya's nose as well as the IV bag that leads to his arm, "he's been kicking too, but I am afraid it usually doesn't mean that the patient is starting to wake up, I am sorry."
"Yeah well, "Makoto shrugs, the need to leave suddenly over whelming, he wants to get out of the hospital and get somewhere that he can process what he has just discovered. He also needs a cigarette, badly. "You never know right? I mean people wake up from these things all the time." He thinks about himself.
"Yes," The nurse says while at the same time not trying to raise hope, "they do, but it is rather uncommon." She smiles at Makoto sweetly before heading for the door again.
"Hey," Makoto calls to her, getting her to turn back to him. "There is a guy who comes here a lot, a tall gaijin with orange hair."
The nurse nods, her dislike for the man suddenly apparent on her face.
"Does he come at a set time?"
She thinks for a moment, "Usually he comes in the early afternoon, later in the day we are more likely to be." Makoto watches her try and think of a polite way to state what is the equivalency of body maintenance, "attending to our patients needs. He doesn't like to see that stuff so he is usually gone by then. Why?"
Makoto shrugs and heads for the door himself, "Just curious." He smiles at her again. "Never know when I will be able to come back and I might like to say hi to him." Makoto brushes by the woman, letting one of his long arms skim against hers. "After all we have a friend in common."
**********"Stop fidgeting," Crawford commands, as he pretends to watch the elevator's electronic floor reading rise, 12.13.14, while really he is watching the flash of gold out of the corner of his eye.
"Am I fidgeting?" Schuldig rolls his lighter over the top of his fingers like a magician with a coin, "I am afraid I hadn't noticed."
"We are on camera you fool," Crawford's mouth barely moves but his eyes narrow threateningly. 18.19.20.
"Again," Schuldig rolls the lighter in the other direction across his fingers, his face in it's normal mask of a smirk, "afraid I hadn't noticed."
"What is the problem?" Crawford speaks in his usual dead pan voice, the 'now' implied by the slight lowering of his right eyebrow. 24.25.26.
//We've been doing this now for two days// Schuldig pretends to palm his lighter and makes it appear in his other hand, //it is a waste of my time, and on a weekend no less// Schuldig cannot understand the old fashioned companies of Japan that still demanded that Saturday be a normal work day.
//No it isn't// Crawford shoots back, //trust me, you want to get this job out of the way, you will need the free time soon enough// 28.29.30.
//Really?// Schuldig pockets his lighter to give Crawford his full attention, //You saw something. What?// He bites into his own tongue to keep himself from trying to probe Crawford's mind. After so many years of training together and then working together Schuldig knows that trying to pluck information from his leaders mind never has beneficial results, if he is caught. And on his best of days he might be able to skim the man's thoughts without being noticed, but with the amount of work he had been putting into first Aya and then the mission he was far too tired to be able to pull off even that minor an intrusion on the great Oracle without being noticed.
//Let's just say that you should give your work your all right now// Crawford's face stays impassive, never leaving the obnoxious readout of the elevator, but his mental voice has a lilt of humor to it, //because your 'hobby' will need your 'all' before the week is through.//
Schuldig does not miss the innuendo in the cryptic words. Damn Brad Crawford, he is always so cabalistic. In Schuldig's opinion he takes his code name of Oracle far too seriously. Just because the man was named after the prophet of Delphi doesn't mean he has to be as vague as the mythical prophet. Hell after all, what did such ambiguity get Oedipus?
//I think your military upbringing has hampered your appreciation of the classics// Schuldig forces his eyes to look at the elevator read out to keep from glaring at Crawford, the green neon reading 40, only 28 more floors to go.
Schuldig demands himself to think about the job at hand. Get off the elevator, get the receptionist to let them in, get the information that their client wants, kill anything that breathes, get out. Such a simple plan, but then again when broken down they are always simple plans. It is only when a fly is thrown in the ointment that things get complicated. Crawford's relaxed posture and the fact that he spoke outwardly at all tells Schuldig that they will have no surprises to deal with on this job. It is both a relief and a disappointment. A relief because it means he will not have to expend too much energy and that means that he will not have to waste time recuperating before he can get back to Aya, and a disappointment because he is very bored. He hates to be bored.
//How long?// Annoying Crawford always alleviates boredom //Tonight? Tomorrow? The day after?//
//Stop it// Another command.
//I am not doing anything// Schuldig mimics Crawford's position, hands crossed over his chest staring at the digital readout of the elevator. 48.49.50. //Tuesday?//
//I shouldn't have told you anything// Crawford glares at Schuldig then back at the neon readout. 52.53.54.
//Shouldn't have, wouldn't have, couldn't have// Schuldig smiles brightly at him,//too late now//
//Keep your mind on what we are doing// Crawford's annoyance sings around Schuldig like a fine aria written by a master.
// Sie erhielten ihm Chef*// Schuldig makes a show of concentrating on the elevator read out //Elevator going up, still going up, and look at that another floor! Really Crawford I think this machine works fine without my goading.//
//Fuck you// Crawford's mental fury is something that has never ceased to enthrall Schuldig.
//What?// Schuldig cannot help but smirk, // You want me keep my mind on what we are doing, and what we are doing at the moment, is going up.//
Crawford opens his mouth to verbally assault Schuldig just as the elevator chimes their arrival at the 68th floor.
//Three in the hallway// Schuldig is suddenly all business// I can take them all, two more further down the hall. The bigger one is near the alarm.//
//Then he dies first// Crawford slips out if the elevator, not trying to take cover from the three men who are staring at the opening elevator door dumb founded. He trusts Schuldig, no matter how annoying he might be, to take the men out before they have time to draw and aim at the swiftly moving American.
From their minds Schuldig can catch their confusion. No one should be able to access the pent house elevator without a proper DNA inscription. Schuldig thinks of throwing out the severed hand of the CEO's wife but decides the two seconds that it would take for him to pick it up and throw is too much of a waste of time, instead he kicks the hand out of the elevator and onto the office suites' floor before he moves up to the first man and breaks his nose with his gun, forcing the cartilage back into the dumbfounded man's brain before he turns and shoots the other two guards, both bullets hitting each of their marks right between the eyes.
He next reaches out down the hall, past the heavy metal doors that were built to be protection, but really only act to muffle the slaughter house the reception lobby has become, to enter the receptionist's mind. //We are coming to see Tagaki-sama,// He pushes at the pretty young thing, //we are expected, prepare an access card//
When Crawford and he push open the heavy doors, five corpses behind them, the receptionist is waiting for them, the welcoming smile on her face reminiscent of a first class stewardess. Her large breasts giggle beneath her one size too small white shirt as she strides across the room to greet them. Her micro mini wool skirt twisting seductively with each step she takes. She hands them the electronic key with a long nailed hand. //Think someone got their position on there filing skills?// Schuldig tosses at Crawford knowing it will annoy the man.
//Just do the job// Crawford tosses back.
"Ja, Ja" Schuldig mumbles before he reaches out again into the pretty but vapid woman's head. // All the files you have on Enomoto, Mitsuharu, go pull them now, come into the office when you are done// The young secretary blinks before turning to complete the task that Schuldig has ordered her to do.
Schuldig walks up to the elaborate wooden door and uses the access card to unlock the door and makes a show out of pushing it open and gesturing like a bell hop for Crawford to enter. Crawford pulls his gun and walks by Schuldig with a scowl. Schuldig follows him pulling his own gun back out of his pocket. They enter into a large office where two men are sitting on a leather couch, jackets off and sleeves rolled up as they read computer printouts in front of them.
Crawford shoots both men before they have even looked up from their papers, the silencer on his gun turning the sound of the shots into soft hisses as Schuldig moves to the set of doors at the back of the room that lead to the conference hall. Crawford walks over to the bodies and begins to rifle through the papers, making sure that there is nothing in them that he should be collecting. When he is satisfied that they are inconsequential he walks over to the large wooden desk that is next to the windows and begins to search for files in it.
Schuldig, enters into the large modern room and clears his throat. Unlike Crawford he enjoys a flair for the dramatic and gets a great pleasure from seeing the surprised faces of the board members as they look up at him. Schuldig wiggles the fingers of his left hand in greeting before he raises the gun in his right hand and begins to shoot the various men sitting around the table. His aim is deadly and precise as he shoots too quickly for the stunned businessmen to have time to try and take cover.
When he has empties his gun there are only two other living men in the room beside himself. A heavy balding man who is trying his best to hide his massive girth behind the flimsy modernistic chrome and velvet seat that he had been sitting in moments before. He is of no consequence to the mission and Schuldig pounces on the man, grabbing him by his expensive jacket and dragging him into the center of the room.
"Tagaki," Schuldig chastises the second man who is attempting to crawl over to the door in a feeble attempt to escape, "be a good boy and stay where you are please. I will be with you in just a moment." Schuldig grabs the fat man's head and scowls at the feel of the greasy hair in his hands before he snaps the man's neck and drops him to the floor.
"Please don't hurt me," Tagaki says as he makes a mad dash for the door. His speed greatly hindered by the fact that he is crawling on all fours.
"I didn't hurt any of them," Schuldig gestures to the dead bodies around the room as he moves to block the door so that the man cannot get out to the main office. He cannot kill this man right away, they need to get some information out of him first. Schuldig wants to play with him for a little while before he lets Crawford have him and he knows that if he lets the man into the main office Crawford will want to get down to business and will ruin his fun. "They didn't feel a thing." Schuldig smirks down at the cowering man. "What makes you think you will get special treatment?"
For two days Schuldig has had to work and it has kept him away from Aya. He was making good progress getting Aya closer and closer to consciousness and he was afraid that the two day lull would allow Aya to slip back down into the recesses of his mind. He blamed the C.E.O of the Tagaki Corporation for the disruption of his progress. If the greedy bastard hadn't been planning to incriminate Enomoto Mitsuharu, a rival businessman, in a stock scandal, Ephrium, the company that they were under contract to, would never have sent Crawford and him to destroy the man's empire. And unlike most of the jobs that he did for his masters, this one had to be accomplished by the light of the day, no he had not been able to see Aya at all and now to be working on a Saturday, of all things, he wanted a little revenge for the inconvenience caused him.
"Don't kill me!" Tagaki begins to back away from Schuldig, his eyes wide as saucers and his bottom lip trembling. "Please, I am begging you." Says the man, who had been quoted as saying it was his inner strength and inability to feel fear that had made him the great business man he is, in an article in Business Weekly Schuldig had read while doing research on the man. There had been a picture of the man, grinning like the Cheshire Cat seated at the same large glass table he was now trying to scuttle under.
"You know you don't look a thing like your picture in Business Man Weekly," Schuldig muses as he pulls the clip out of his gun and replaces it with a new loaded one. "It really is amazing what one can do with the proper lighting, Ja?" He points the gun at the man, he is pretty sure Crawford won't mind if he maims him just a little.
"I can give you money," The man offers.
Schuldig wonders why everyone always offers money. He would like for once for someone to come up with an original offer rather than the same old cliché. Schuldig had seen the same TV shows and movies where his victims have taken the idea from and as far as he can tell the ploy has never worked for the characters in those so he cannot understand why people think it will work in real life. Schuldig fires his gun as his answer. He purposely misses the man, the bullet tearing a hole in the deep carpet only inches away from Tagaki's left hand. Schuldig laughs when the man shrieks like a little girl.
//Damn it Schuldig!// Crawford roars through their mental link // We need him, you better not God damn have killed him!//
//You have no faith in me Brad. It hurts, it really hurts// Schuldig sends back, the annoyance he is causing Crawford an added bonus to his game, //I haven't harmed him in the least.//
//Just bring him out here// Crawford's tone is one of warning.
//You are just no fun// Schuldig pouts.
//Now!// Crawford blocks their connection so that Schuldig cannot respond.
"Come on ein Grosser Schuß**," Schuldig uses his gun to signal for the man to stand up, "We have business to attend to."
"Please," The man pays no attention to him, he is set on the idea that Schuldig is going to kill him, and "I have a wife and children."
Another cliché, Schuldig is starting to dislike Tagaki, very much. "Actually," Schuldig looks at his watch, "you did up until about three hours ago. Now you do not." He strides over to the man and forces him to his feet as the realization of what Schuldig's words mean sink into the business man making him compliant.
Schuldig takes hold of Tagaki's wrist and twists it so that the man has no choice but to move with Schuldig or to break his arm. Hr forces the man out of the conference room and into the main office. Tagaki moans when he sees the two bodies draped over the leather couch. Schuldig picks up from the man's mind that one of them is Tagaki's younger brother. Schuldig shoves the man towards Crawford, Tagaki crashes into his desk with a loud groan.
"Tagaki-sama," Crawford bows to the man formally, "It is very good to meet you."
"What do you want?" Tagaki pulls himself to his feet, attempting to regain some dignity. He has a gun stored in the top draw of his desk and he is hoping that if he can regain his composure and get around to the other side of the desk that he might be able to get the gun and defend himself.
"Answer's to a few questions," Crawford takes a letter opener off of the desk, "I am afraid the information in your computers is not sufficient for my needs, so please do be helpful and answer me truthfully. My associate here will know if you are lying and since we are on a time sensitive schedule I am afraid I won't be able to tolerate such things." Crawford moves in quickly. He grabs hold of Tagaki's hand and uses the letter opener to spike the meaty hand to the table. "Now mind off of the gun please, you haven't a chance in hell of getting to it , and please do pay attention to me, what I have to ask you is very important."
"The secretary is coming." Schuldig informs Crawford. "Shall I take care of her?"
"Yes," Crawford says his eyes never leaving Tagaki, "but make sure she has collected all the files that we need first."
"Ja, Ja," Schuldig walks to the door to meet the young woman. He reaches into her mind before she can open the door to make sure she has not forgotten anything that will link Tagaki to Enomoto. Satisfied that she has not he allows her to come into the room fully and to have a moment to register the dead men on the couch. Women have never been something that he has had much interest in but terror in both the sexes is exhilarating, Bathing in her fear Schuldig wraps his arms around her and smells her, before he snaps her neck. He pulls the folder from her arms before letting her body slump to the floor. He walks back to where Crawford is and sits down on the top of the desk, careful not to get any of Tagaki's blood on his linen pants.
"Now Tagaki-sama," Crawford speaks as if he is talking to a child, "who is it that helped you in your plan to discredit Enomoto-sama? Before you think of lying to me please remember what I have told you about my associate."
"No one," The man says trying to be brave.
"I don't need his help to know that is a lie," Crawford shakes his head before he punches the business man in the face.
Schuldig uses the man's shock to push himself deep into Tagaki's mind. Crawford's question has brought the information that he is seeking to the forefront of the man's mind and Schuldig easily plucks the information from him, which had been Crawford's plan all along. What he learns makes him let out an annoying grunt.
Crawford raises an eye brow at him //Did you get it?//
//Yes// Schuldig is dreading telling Crawford who it is that was the true engineer behind the destruction of Enomoto, one of the leading financial supporters of Ephrium's Asian factor.
//Well?// Crawford asks impatiently.
//You are not going to like it// Schuldig warns.
"Schuldig!" Crawford growls, he is out of patience. They have been in the executive office for nearly ten minutes and he is eager to leave.
"Takatori Mamoru," Schuldig says with a sigh.
Hearing the name makes Tagaki gasp. The stupid fool having no idea how Schuldig could know who his benefactor was.
"Shit!" Crawford raises his gun and shoots Tagaki in the head, his usefulness over, "Shit!'
"Told you you wouldn't like it," Schuldig hops off of the desk holding the files to his chest. "Is the virus in the computer system?" He asks, not really caring but knowing that getting Crawford's mind back to the job at hand will stop the conniption that he is about to have.
"Yes," Crawford glares at the corpse that is unable to fall to the ground because of the hand that is pierced to the desk. Viciously he kicks at the body, the force of his blow dislodging the mail opener from the table and freeing the body. Crawford then turns and starts to storm towards the door, feeling very unsatisfied, "Come on, Let's get the security tapes and start the fire and then get the fuck out of here."
Schuldig thinks about giving a witty retort but the anger that is radiating from Crawford lets him know what a mistake that would be. So he simply follows the man out and goes about completing the mission. He believes that things come in multiples of three, now in one week he has crossed paths, although inadvertently, with two former members of Weiß, he wonders if that mean's that he will have some sort of contact with the last member as well. And if he does if it will have any impact on his plans for Aya. He wants to ask Crawford if he has seen anything about this but the way that Crawford is fuming he decides that he will wait for a more opportune time.