Zeshin smiled at Aya-chan, “I’m sure Fujimiya-san will be along in a minute,” he was saying to the girl as the man he was speaking about stepped into the hallway.
Aya glanced at his sister then did a double take at what she was wearing. The mini-skirt might be just fine on the streets of Tokyo but in nineteenth century Sacramento it just wasn’t going to wash. Schuldig was good but not that good!
“Aya-chan, nice as you look, I think jeans would be better until we can get you some of the right sort of clothes.
His sister gazed down at what she was wearing before she shook her head at her own stupidity. “Sorry, onichan, I forgot,” she said before disappearing into her room to change.
Aya turned his attention to Zeshin. “Are the others up yet?” he asked.
“Ken threw a pillow at me, Farfarello said something I didn’t understand at all and I was not about to ask for clarification based on his tone of voice,” the pale haired boy replied.
“I see,” Aya said grimly and headed towards the room that Ken and the rest of Schwarz were sharing. He threw the door open and barked, “Up! Now! Crawford’s told me what we have to do and we’re going to do it.”
Ken was putting on his shoes, Farfarello was sitting on the dresser watching his lover absently flipping a knife in his hand, catching it by the handle or the flat of the blade with equal alacrity.
“Oh. Okay then.” Aya felt dumb and really didn’t like the feeling. “Let’s get some food.”
He shut the door on them just as Kai headed up the stairs. “I’ve ordered Crawford’s breakfast,” the ex-yakuza said. “Steak and eggs, right? They’re gonna bring it up to his room as soon as it’s ready.”
“Thanks,” Aya muttered as he waited for everyone to assemble in the hallway.
Ken was the first one out, his dark hair still tousled from sleep since he didn’t have a comb or brush to use. He grinned sheepishly at Aya and shrugged, “I lost my comb somewhere.”
Yohji reached into the back pocket of his jeans and produced a hideous bright green comb which he offered to Ken. “Keep it, I have another one.”
Schuldig was next. “Food or clothes first?” he asked Aya.
“Can you hide our clothing long enough for us to eat?” Aya realised he was going to have to find out exactly what this new, mixed team were capable of doing.
The telepath nodded. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“He can sit by me in case he needs a boost to hide us from too many people,” Yohji offered quietly as he dug out his last pack of cigarettes and contemplated them. “We’re going to have to find a substitute for these too or Schuldig and I will be poor company very soon.”
Ken sighed, “This is going to be hard to get used to. No television, no video games.”
Farfarello joined them just as Ken mentioned video games, “Fucking lovely. And here I was waiting for the new Resident Evil to come out.” He frowned, “In trade for no longer running from Rosenkreuz I think I can deal with that aspect of our current situation.”
“Put that way,’ Ken began, “I’m going to find myself not even missing soccer too much.”
“No anime or manga,” Zeshin remarked with a soft sigh. “What did... do people do for fun I wonder?”
“Drink, gamble and screw from what I can tell by the sounds from the street last night,” Farfarello commented dryly.
Zeshin actually blushed slightly, “Oh.”
Schuldig chuckled. “If Vater lets me gamble I should make a killing,” he said.
“I think he beat you to it,” Aya said with the trace of a smile. “Zeshin, see if you can hurry my sister up a bit will you?”
“No need, I’m here.” Aya-chan had swapped the mini-skirt for jeans and had tucked her long hair under a cap for good measure. She looked almost boyish.
Zeshin smiled shyly at her, “You look cute like that,” he remarked softly.
Yohji frowned, “Isn’t Nagi coming?”
Ken stuck his head in the door, “Nagi, you coming? We’re going to go eat.”
“Sorry, Ken, I was just coming.”
Nagi appeared in the hall, still pulling on a light jacket.
Aya glanced round at them all and felt the stirring of pride. He now understood precisely why Crawford wanted to save them all. They were worth saving.
“Okay, let’s go eat,” he said and led them towards the stairs.
Ken started to slip his arm around his lover and thought better of it. There was no telling what people in this time might think about a pair of men arm in arm going to breakfast.
“I guess rice and vegetables won’t be on the menu here,” Yohji commented as he headed down the stairs. They swayed slightly under the weight of everyone and he frowned. “This is going to take getting used too. Wood buildings and stairs. No more smoking indoors I think.”
“Since we’re all sharing a room with you, that would be the considerate thing to do anyway, Kudoh-san.”
Aya hid a grin. Zeshin had politely said what he would have been far more forceful about stating.
“You’ve got a point there, Yohji,” Schuldig said unhappily. “Ah well, we can always go to the saloon for a smoke.”
They found that the hotel had a small dining room that was serving breakfasts and trooped in.
“One of you is going to have to help us with the English menu,” Aya said. “I mean I can read English but what the hell is sourdough bread?”
“You’ve got me on that one,” Yohji said as he looked at the menu written on a board on the wall.
“It’s a way of rising bread, its not bad. Makes a great sandwich if you pile on enough roast beef,” Farfarello remarked as he sat back in his seat.
Aya grimaced slightly. He was going to have to get used to this sort of food. “Is steak and eggs any good or is there something else that we might want to eat?” He indicated the Japanese members of the party as he spoke.
Farfarello considered the menu, “I’m not sure how you’ll like eggs. I don’t like them to be honest,” the Irishman admitted. “They do have fried potatoes and steak, toast too. You might be better off trying that instead of eggs.”
“Well I know for a fact I hate eggs,” Yohji remarked. “I’ll go with Farfarello’s suggestion.”
“I’ll take the steak and eggs,” Ken stated. “I’ve had it before, it’s okay.”
Zeshin was studying the menu with an intensity that spoke of someone having trouble deciphering the symbols. “Is there any fruit?”
“They’ve got oranges,” Aya said, “but you should eat more than that. How do they cook the eggs, Farfarello?
Ken watched as a man in a nicely tailored Victorian suit walked in and surveyed the room. The man paused just inside the door, pale grey eyes scanning the tables as if he were searching for someone. His dark hair showed a few strands of grey, his neatly trimmed moustache was also threaded with silver. He pulled out a gold pocket watch and glanced at it, a frown appearing on his face.
“He looks important,” Kai remarked.
“Yeah,” Ken agreed.
“He’s also looking for someone,” Yohji remarked as a young man started toward their table, his expression none too friendly. “Trouble at three o’clock,” the blond warned.
“You the waiter, sonny?” Schuldig asked the young man. “If you’re not, then piss off.”
“I’m the owner’s son, and we don’t allow foreigners in here. Now the lot of you get out.”
The man who’d been standing by the door seemed to take notice of them, probably because of the young man drawing his gaze. His frown didn’t abate, but he did stride toward them purposefully.
One golden eyebrow arched in Schuldig’s direction as Yohji said, “I guess he doesn’t know who we’re with,” he said in heavily accented English.
Then Aya astounded everyone by saying in almost perfect English. “We work for Mr Crawford. Do you have a problem with that? Now, could we please have some breakfast?”
“And who in the hell is Mr. Crawford?” the boy asked.
“Pardon,” the nicely dressed man said. He had a light British accent, and he offered Aya a stiffly formal smile, “Did I hear you say you work for Mr. Crawford?”
The hotel owner’s son shot a glance at the man, “Another foreigner,” he muttered in disgust.
“Were you born this rude or did you have to practice?” Schuldig asked the hotel owner’s son. “Not only are we business associates of Mr Crawford but we are also guests at this hotel. If you don’t believe me, run off and talk to your father. He checked us in yesterday evening.”
He frowned suddenly. “And while you’re at it, send a goddamn waiter!”
The young man glared at the people at the table and stalked off, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll just speak with my father then.”
The nicely dressed man sighed, “I’m afraid you’ll only encounter more such poor manners around this city. Beastly Americans...” he frowned, “not your boss of course. He’s from back East where manners are taught.”
He shook his head, “Speaking of manners, let me introduce myself, I’m Algernon Porter. I wanted to speak with Mr. Crawford about a business matter. Is he about anywhere?”
“He’s resting right now,” Aya told the newcomer. “Perhaps we could give him a message for you or arrange a meeting.”
“I was afraid of that. I saw him at the saloon last night. Dreadful place, but everyone appears to conduct their business there.”
Porter glanced around, pulled a nearby chair closer to Aya and sat down, “Please forgive me, but I’m a bit tired myself.”
Yohji watched the man, feeling more than tiredness at the core of the man’s reason for seating himself. He was ill. He shot a glance at Schuldig, wondering what was wrong with Porter and whether it was contagious.
*Tuberculosis. He is contagious but probably not to us as everyone of us has had the vaccination. Just as well really in this time period.*
“Would you care to join us for breakfast, Mr Porter?” Aya asked. “Always provided we get some, of course.”
Ken scooted his chair closer to Nagi’s, his stomach protesting that it was becoming as annoyed as the rest of them were at the lack of service. “Maybe I should go track down someone to take our order,” he said in somewhat better English than Yohji.
Zeshin nodded, “That might be a good idea since everyone else has been served but us.”
The Englishman looked at the boy that had just spoken, finding that he was barely able to understand a word the child had said. If they didn’t speak the language it was going to be devilishly hard for them to get by.
“Beastly people here,” Algernon commented again, “they aren’t like this in the East.”
“Ah well, that’s the civilised side of this godforsaken country,” Schuldig remarked. He was pleased to see a waiter hurrying across to their table. The hotel owner had obviously put his son straight.
*Sorry, Aya, the eggs are scrambled usually.*
Breakfast was ordered, including some for Mr Porter, and the waiter scooted away to deal with it.
“Was Mr Crawford expecting you?” Aya asked the Englishman.
“He and I spoke briefly last night about a business proposal. He was quite interested actually.” The man smiled that stiff little smile again. “A very intelligent man, Crawford. Not like these clods.”
Algernon paused, wondering if he should really discuss business with the man’s servants. The German would have been his first choice to speak with, everyone knew how astute the entire race was. But the pale young man with the unusual violet eyes and fiery hair was more outspoken than the German which made Algernon wonder if he wasn’t actually the one in charge when Crawford wasn’t around. Perhaps he was the man’s valet or butler, but looking at the young man he couldn’t honestly picture him in either role.
Zeshin picked up his glass of water and stared at it, wondering if it was safe to drink or not.
“I see,” Aya said. “I imagine he will wish to speak with you again at some point but, right now, I don’t wish to wake him. Could I request that you return here this afternoon if that is convenient to you. He should be awake by then.”
He was amazed at how well he remembered his father’s tuition in how to speak to prospective clients and businessmen in general. However, he wanted to be sure that this whole deal was on the level.
*Schu, did he meet with Brad and will Brad want to see him?*
*Yes to both. He could be quite lucrative.*
“Oh, of course. I didn’t realize how late Mr. Crawford had remained at the card game. I certainly wouldn’t want him awakened on my account, and I’d be pleased to meet him later. I’m staying at boarding house a few streets away.”
From a nearby table a voice could clearly be heard saying, “Something in this place sure stinks.”
Raucous laughter erupted and Porter winced, “It’s much quieter there.” He glanced nervously at the table full of men, face pinching into an expression of distaste, “Fewer insufferable boors and dirt grubbing clods,” he added in a whisper.
Yohji’s jade eyes were on the table full of loudmouths, the blond chewing but obviously paying little attention to the food.
Ken was sitting with his back to the men, “Yeah, something in her does stink,” he muttered, nose wrinkling as an errant shift in the wind carried the stench of unwashed skin their way.
Zeshin’s nose crinkled and he covered his face with the napkin, “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” he said in Japanese.
Aya caught Schuldig’s eyes. *Could you ‘suggest’ to that bunch of great unwashed that it’s time for their yearly bath?*
Schuldig smirked. *I like the way you think, Aya.* The telepath concentrated for a moment and suddenly all the men at the table arose and left in a hurry.
“Now eat your food,” Aya said to Zeshin in Japanese before he turned his attention back to Porter. “A boarding house, you say? Would it be possible for Mr Porter to call on you there?”
Yohji watched the bunch of men leaving, gave a nod to Schuldig, and went back to his meal.
Zeshin picked up some of the orange slices, smiled at Schuldig and started to eat.
Ken actually grinned at Schuldig, “Nice. Very nice,” he said in Japanese.
Porter watched as the group of men departed, their meals hardly touched. He’d expected trouble and there was just no accounting for why the men would simply depart, leaving food unfinished and the group he was seated with unmolested.
“Mr. Crawford said you’d only just arrived in Sacramento. I know it’s none of my business, but I’d like to offer you a little advice. People here are very... well uncivilized. It’s a good idea not to walk alone at night, and not to go about alone at all if you can help it.” He wiped his brow with a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket, “I feel as if I’m taking my life in my hands every time I leave the boarding house, but a man must be able to conduct business.”
Aya nodded his thanks to Schuldig before smiling at Porter. “Oh I think we’ll fit in just fine,” he said. “We are not exactly civilised ourselves, being foreigners, now are we? Believe me, Mr Porter, we are very well able to take care of ourselves although I do thank you for your advice.”
As Aya turned his attention back to his food at that point, Schuldig spoke up. “I agree with you wholeheartedly, sir. What sort of business are you involved in?”
“Importing goods from overseas. People here want things to buy, but the demand isn’t being met. I have suppliers for tea, china, fabrics and spices.”
“Lucrative,” was all that Aya said. No wonder Crawford was interested.
“Yes, it will be,” Porter agreed.
“You need financial backing?” Yohji asked.
Porter looked at the blonde man, expression puzzled, “What was that again? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
Yohji sighed, “You want Mr. Crawford to finance your venture, is that it?”
“Yes yes, that’s quite right,” Porter replied, nodding. Unlike the red-haired gentleman, the blonde was difficult to understand.
“Sounds like something Mr Crawford would be interested in, don’t you agree, Schuldig?” Farfarello asked. He cut another piece of steak and studied it on the end of his fork before placing it into his mouth and chewing slowly.
“Without a doubt,” Schuldig said with a smile, “he’s always good at seeing opportunity.”
Nagi leaned against Ken, bored by the business talk and his breakfast finished. “Are there a lot of rooms in this boarding house.” Crawford, of course, had made sure that his English was impeccable.”
“A few. I hate to say it, but even with Mr. Crawford being present, few places will tolerate foreigners, especially... well non-European ones,” he said giving a glance in the direction of Nagi and Ken who, of the group, looked the most Asian.
“And I wonder how long we foreigners will tolerate being here,” Aya said testily. Kami-sama but these people were ignorant. And in his own ultra-polite way, Porter was as racist as the rest of them.
“I shouldn’t worry too much if I were you,” Schuldig said soothingly to Aya. “If I know Mr Crawford as well as I think I do, we’ll have our own mansion before the end of the week.”
“Mr. Crawford is a very resourceful man. I'm sure he'll find a suitable place for himself," Porter remarked. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and coughed delicately a few times before clearing his throat. "Pardon. I've had this dreadful cough for months and no doctor in this godforsaken country can discover it's cause, much less properly treat it."
He put the handkerchief back into his pocket. "And I'm afraid I must be running along. I have another business appointment that I dare not miss." He gave them a polite nod of the head and rose, "It's been quite a pleasure to speak with you Mr. Ah... Dear I don't recall your name. I'm beastly about not remembering names."
“I didn’t give you my name, Mr Porter but for what it’s worth it’s Fujimiya. I’ll be sure to let Mr Crawford know you were looking for him.”
Schuldig waited until the man had left the dining room before remarking, “what a stuck-up mass of ignorant assumptions that man is. He’ll be ripe for the plucking. And he’s not likely to live much longer with the TB. It was almost always lethal at this time.”
“Then Crawford will have to decide quickly if he wants to invest,” Aya said. “Personally, I think he should. The man is right. Commodities here would make big money.”
“I wonder if he could be persuaded to import sushi,” Kai said forlornly.
"You wouldn't import sushi, you'd have to find the ingredients to make it with," Zeshin remarked. "And if we could, well I can make passable sushi."
Yohji glanced at Zeshin, "Really?" His tone wasn't very friendly, and the boy visibly flinched.
“If everyone’s finished we still have to buy clothes,” Aya said quickly before Yohji could become even nastier. He glared at his lover.
The blonde stood, "I'm going to go have a smoke first. Anyone care to join me?"
“Yeah, I’ll join you,” Schuldig said, pushing his plate aside.
Farfarello bolted down the last few bites of his steak, and what was left of Schuldig's for good measure, the man grinning, pleased with the meal.
Zeshin took another drink of water and rose to help Aya-chan with the heavy wooden chair.
Ken shoved a piece of toast in his mouth and got to his feet, "That wasn't bad," he mumbled around the toast in his mouth.
“I think your taste buds have died, Ken,” Nagi said. “Although that wasn’t quite as bad as the bratwurst Schuldig tried to feed me once.”
"Ken can eat almost anything," Yohji commented as he left the table with Schuldig.
Zeshin watched the blonde a second before looking at Aya, "I think I'll stay here and watch our things. Didn't Crawford-san say that someone should protect our gear until we know nothing will be stolen?"
Aya didn’t argue. It was probably wise to keep Zeshin and Yohji apart as much as possible. “Okay,” he said. “Someone can take you to get clothes later.”
He stood up and threw some of the paper money Crawford had given him down on the table. The gold was carefully tucked away still but he would need it to get them all clothing. Especially as four of them would probably need to have their clothing made to measure.
"Did Crawford say where the clothing store is?" Ken asked.
“No, but I’m sure we can find it,” Aya said. “It shouldn’t be that hard to find.”
"Hmm... I wonder if we're even looking for a clothing store. Did they even have those?" Ken wondered.
Yohji stepped out onto the boardwalk in front of the hotel. He was getting his first look at the town and he frowned. "I've always wanted to visit America, but I don't think this is what I had in mind," he remarked as a horse drawn wagon made its way down the street amid pedestrians, and others mounted on horseback.
He took a cigarette out of his pack and offered the pack to Schuldig, "We're going to need to keep our eyes out for a place that sells tobacco. I don't have many left, what about you?"
“About two packs I think, not a lot. I know they had chewing tobacco…” He chuckled suddenly. “The finicky amongst us are just going to love spittoons! I’m pretty certain they had cigars and cigarillos and hopefully rolling tobacco. I think they bought it from the general store.”
“Oh, yeah,” Yohji said, “people chew tobacco and then spit the stuff all over the place.”
“Sounds about right,” Ken said as he surveyed the street and the filth. “I don’t know, the smell here might prove just as bad as anything Rosenkruez could do to us,” he said as he wiped at his eyes.
“I bet that’s really why Zeshin stayed in the hotel room. He doesn’t do well around bad smells,” the brunet added.
“Neither do I,” Aya said as he wrinkled his nose in distaste. He glanced up and down the street and spotted a general store. “I guess we’d better try there first.”
Yohji glanced at Schuldig, “Can you mind control these people into thinking baths are good and clean streets are a sign of prosperity?”
“I can manage the bathing, not so sure about the streets. No matter what I do there’s still gonna be horse shit everywhere.”
“Lovely,” Nagi remarked, “just lovely.”
Even Aya-chan grimaced as they headed down the street towards the store.
“At least we can stick to the boardwalks except at intersections,” Yohji said as they made their way down the street.
Ken frowned, “We’re attracting a lot of attention,” he stated softly. “Maybe you should do that blurring thing some more Schuldig.”
Farfarello frowned, “He can’t keep that up constantly. It’s a strain for him to blur our appearance to so many minds and even if Kudoh helps he will still get tired.”
“Trouble incoming,” Kai said softly, “I think it’s that bunch from the restaurant.”
Sure enough the loud mouths from the adjacent table were picking their way across the street towards them.
Aya pushed Aya-chan into a doorway and turned to face the trouble, eyes narrowed as he reached into his boot for the knife he always kept there.
“Can we handle them without violence?” Yohji asked Schuldig, “or do we get nasty?”
Farfarello grinned, “I say we get nasty, just let the locals know we aren’t something they want to fuck around with.”
Ken stepped in front of Nagi, “Unfortunately, I’m going to agree with Berserker.”
Farfarello smirked, “The kitten has started to learn.”
Aya nodded, eyes still on the approaching gang. “Nagi, take care of Aya-chan, please. The rest of you know exactly what to do.”
Ken gave a curt nod. “Hai.”
Yohji calmly pulled on a pair of gloves, his cigarette dangling from his mouth.
“Well lookee here what we found. They sure do smell funny, don’t they Matt?” the tallest of the four said. He was about Aya’s height, lean and hard. A ragged scar ran from the corner of his right eye to his jaw.
“Yeah they sure do, Josh,” the shortest of the four said.
“It’s called bathing, you should try it,” Yohji remarked, his accent a bit softer, his eyes hard and cold as he slipped into mission mode.
“What do you think these here guys are? Ain’t American’s that’s sure.”
“Nah, they ain’t. Someone needs to teach them that their kind just don’t walk around like they own the place,” the last man said as he spit a stream of brown into the dirt.
Farfarello stepped out in front of the rest of his team. He grinned at the thought, Yes, we are a team now. Us against everyone else. He found that he actually liked the idea of having the Weiss with them.
No, not Weiss anymore, we all belong to Brad, we’re all Schwarz now.
Yes, he liked that idea. “And what do you fools think you’re going to do?” he asked letting his Irish accent flow freely for a change.
“Well now, lemme see. Hows about I kick your lily-white, Irish ass fer starters,” the one called Matt suggested.
Aya actually smiled. “Not a good idea,” he said.
Kai pulled his sai out of his pockets.
“What purty knives. Shame I’m gonna have to take them from you,” the spitting man said.
“You can try,” Kai invited.
One of the men reached for a gun.
“YAIYAIYAI!” rose over the sounds of the town as Farfarello swept toward the three men.
A thin filament of wire spun out to wrap around the gunman, binding his arm to his body. “Naughty of you to bring a gun to a knife fight,” Yohji commented softly, his cigarette still perched in his mouth.
Spitting man tried to rush Kai who neatly side stepped, his sai spinning at a rate guaranteed to make his opponent dizzy just watching. Then one stopped spinning and buried itself in spitting man’s arm.
“We playing for sleeps or keeps, Aya,” he asked calmly.
“Keeps.” Aya’s deep voice was cold as he plunged his knife into the throat of the man that Ken had winded.
The second sai found spitting man’s heart.
Farfarello’s knife flashed once, and the man fell to the filthy street, holding his guts which were spilling out between his hands.
“Too bad for them,” Yohji remarked as he flipped a coil of wire around the gunman’s neck and yanked hard. Blood flowed from the man’s severed throat. Yohji twitched the wire and retracted it, not willing to lose it when he didn’t have any to replace what he carried.
“Guess I’ll have to switch to a local gun,” he remarked coolly.
Everyone on the street had stopped to watch in macabre fascination as four of the town’s notorious trouble makers came to a bloody and well deserved end.
Aya wiped his knife clean on his victim’s shirt before sheathing it back in his boot. “So,” he said as if nothing had happened, “shall we get this damned clothing bought?”
Kai retrieved his sai and wiped them clean before returning them to his pockets. “Ready when you are,” he said.
Aya-chan stepped past a protective Nagi and hugged her brother in silent thanks. The four men had shaken her up especially when one of them had pulled a gun.
Nagi grinned at Yohji. “Take his,” he suggested pointing at the gun still held loosely in Josh’s fist. “Luckily I didn’t need to reduce it to so much scrap metal.”
“No, thanks but no. I think I want something with a bit of class,” Yohji remarked as he removed his gloves. “Besides if his state of filth is any indication, that gun hasn’t been cleaned since he bought it.”
Farfarello’s singular stare swept the watching crowd before he rejoined the others on the boardwalk. “I’d say we’ve made an impression.”
“Yeah, but good, bad or indifferent, that’s what I’d like to know.” He glanced at his fists, frowning at a cut on his knuckle.
Zeshin came running out of the hotel, “Is everyone all right? I heard Farfarello yelling and...” he went silent as he saw the bodies in the street. “I see, well... I guess everyone’s okay then.”
“We’re fine,” Aya said as he gazed around at the small crowd that had gathered. “Probably bad,” he added as answer to Ken’s question, “but here, I don’t think that’s the wrong place to be. It should deter anymore eager amateurs.”
Schuldig chuckled after assuring himself that Farfarello didn’t have a scratch on him. “Neat, very neat. And you guys thought you were so different to us when you were exactly the same.”
“Perhaps,” Aya acknowledged. “We were led by the noses for long enough.”
“Short and curlies would be more truthful,” Yohji muttered as he shoved his gloves into his pocket and took a drag of his cigarette.
“No shit,” Ken remarked his tone venomous.
*Schuldig I trust you are all well and have settled the dispute,* Crawford’s voice said in the German’s head.
The Irishman refrained from kissing Schuldig, but the telepath could feel how difficult it was for him not to grab the taller man and pin him to the closest wall. He was always like that after a kill, eager to share his joy at spilling blood with his lover.
But they were on a public street and being watched by the rest of their team, and a bunch of backwater morons. *We’ll play later,* he promised.
*All present and unharmed, Vater,* Schuldig sent to Brad then to Farfarello, *I’ll hold you to that.*
Farfarello just grinned.
Schuldig got the impression of a yawn from Brad. *I forgot to mention, if you meet with an Englishman named Algernon Porter do me a favour and treat him as if he’s made of gold. For all intents and purposes he is, the man is our ticket to a great deal of wealth.*
*We bought him his breakfast this morning and arranged for you to meet later today. I think he‘s under the impression that we‘re your servants.*
*Excellent. And we shall leave everyone to believe that you work for me as underlings. People always underestimate the servants. Don’t get into more trouble than absolutely necessary. If you run into anything masquerading as the law and they appear ready to put you into a cell, call me. I’ll set them straight.* The connection broke
Aya sighed. “Let’s get these damned clothes bought and get back to the hotel.” How he hated shopping. “Schuldig, I hope you know what Crawford will want. He says you do.”
“I’ll go back and guard our stuff then, if everyone is okay.”
“Good idea,” Yohji commented.
Ken sighed and shook his head at the way the blond was acting. Jealousy was a terrible thing. Glancing at Nagi he realized he’d be really annoyed if someone tried to get between him and Nagi, but then again he didn’t think Nagi would want a second lover either the way Aya did if he was reading the signs right.
Glancing at the red-head and the blond he was pretty sure he had read the signs all too clearly.
They trooped into the general store and Aya stated their business and asked if anyone actually did made to measure clothing.
The shop owner stared at the horde of foreigners that had descended on his establishment. “I... umm... no, you’d have to go to a tailor for that. I sell the cloth though, and I’ve got a nice selection of men’s attire but...” he looked at the men and paled slightly. They looked the dangerous sort, if the scars covering the one-eyed man were any indication of their line of work.
“Tobacco,” Yohji said the word clearly, “do you stock it?” Clothes he had, if not those common to this era, but tobacco was essential to his well being, and that of the people around him.
“Yes sir, finest quality Virginia, good for chewing or rolling.”
“Can we look at your clothing and cloth, please?” Aya asked after shooting a glare Yohji’s way. “His addictions can wait.”
Yohji turned a long suffering look on Schuldig, “Do you see what I have to deal with?” he asked.
“Complain, complain, complain,” Ken muttered as he made his way to a table full of neatly folded jeans and flannel shirts.
Nagi followed his lover and was soon happily picking through the piles with him. Kai also headed in that direction and was soon joined by Schuldig.
Aya turned back to the shopkeeper. “And I’d like some clothing suitable for a young lady,” he added. “If we have to have it made that’s fine.” As he spoke, a long, yellowy, chamois leather duster caught his eye. “Could I try that on, please?”
The shopkeeper watched the group of young men, uncertain what he should do or say. He didn’t want them angry with him, but he was also wondering about money or whether they planned to rob him.
Nodding at Aya, the shopkeeper watched as the tall blond man went to his display case of handguns.
It was then that he noticed something very odd about the men. Not one of them was carrying a revolver.
Aya, noticing that the shopkeeper had the look of something that had been stuffed, contacted Schuldig. *What’s his problem apart from us being foreign?*
*He’s confused about our lack of obvious weaponry and is wondering how we’re going to pay. I take it Brad did give you some funds? Credit cards aren’t going to cut it here.*
*I’ve got some gold that Crawford gave me for this. Let’s put this idiot’s mind at rest.*
He cut the connection to Schuldig and dug into his pocket. Retrieving the gold nugget he placed it on the counter. “If our order comes to more than that let me know,” he said. “I can get more before the end of the day.”
The shopkeepers eyes lit on the gold and he swallowed. “That will pay for the coat you’re looking at, but it’s going to take quite a bit more money to pay for the rest of you.”
Yohji looked over his shoulder at the man, “Really?” He turned, leaning his hip against the display counter, “That seems a bit expensive for one coat.”
The shopkeeper stared at the blond, something in the way the man stood there reminding him of a gunslinger that had come into his shop not too long ago. He swallowed nervously. “Since the Rush things have gotten expensive. Lots of demand, but the supply doesn’t meet it. I’ve got to make a profit or I’ll go out of business.”
“Let’s see, now,” Aya said looking at the prices on the jeans, shirts and guns in the display cabinet. “At a guess I’d say you’re putting about a three hundred percent mark-up on. I’m prepared to let you have no more than fifty percent mark-up on what we buy. And even that is generous. Or should I take my gold and go to another store? I’m sure there’s more than one store in town. And even if there isn't, I'm almost certain you want to keep your fat guts intact.”
The man paled, “Please, I have to earn a living just like anyone else.” Panicked eyes looked from the red-haired man that had just threatened him to the blonde leaning so casually against the gun display. He swallowed, “I have bills to pay...” but what crossed his mind was the weekly sums he had to pay to the ‘merchants association’ that had become the terror of all the business owners.
*Aya, he’s got a monster on his back. Some sort of protection racket going down here.*
*Okay, Schu, can you let Yohji know before he gets carried away?*
“Just tell me how much that will buy at a fifty percent mark-up,” Aya suggested. “If it works out well, we’ll either add more goods to the value of this tiny little nugget, or we’ll bring you more gold. What do you say? I‘m not trying to rob you here. I‘m just looking for a fair price for me and a profit for you.”
The man was sweating, gaze shifting back and forth between Aya and Yohji. “The coat and one change of clothes for them,” he said pointing to Ken and Nagi.
Yohji could feel terror coming off the man, the fear bleeding out of him like the sweat soaking his flesh.
His jade gaze met Schuldig’s azure eyes, the blond trying to establish a mental connection, and only managing some static. The German could see the frustration in his expression.
*Don’t try so hard, Yohji. I can hear you and make you hear me. What’s on your mind?* He read the message that Yohji had tried to send and nodded. *Okay, I’ll make sure everyone knows.*
*Aya, everyone, we’ve got company.*
Ken instantly stepped between Nagi and the door, reaching out to grip Aya-chan gently by the arm and guide her closer to the telekinetic. “Just in case,” he told them in Japanese.
Yohji remained in his relaxed pose while Farfarello, with a nod to the German, stepped closer to a display of hand tools, shovels mostly with a couple of pick axes thrown into the mix.
Aya picked up the gold and put it back in his pocket, while Kai’s hands were dug into his pockets as if he was totally relaxed. Schuldig continued sorting through the clothing available.
“There is some cash here as well,” Aya said as if nothing had happened and pulling a hundred dollar bill from another pocket. “Will that add enough for another outfit?”
“That should give you enough for the other two boys,” he said, mistaking Aya-chan for a boy.
A slim dark-haired man came strolling through the door. He was the picture of the word ‘gunslinger’ right down to the Colt strapped to his right hip, and the Stetson hat he wore.
The eyes that swept the room were black as obsidian, and just as dead and cold as the volcanic glass they resembled.
“Mornin‘, Carter. Do you have that package for Mr. Everette?” he was speaking to the store owner, but his eyes were regarding Yohji, as if he were taking the blonde’s measure. A hint of a frown touched his mouth, turning the hard line even harsher.
“Why yes. It’s right here,” the storeowner said and retrieving a small box from under the counter, handed it over. “I think Mr Everette will like it.”
Schuldig was frowning slightly but he kept his attention firmly on the clothing.
The gunslinger’s gaze swept the room again, stopping on Aya-chan. A slight smile touched his mouth, but it came no where near his eyes as he tipped his hat, “Ma’am,” he said and then stepped out.
The shopkeeper stared at the dark haired boy, then frowned. It was a girl. And a pretty one too.
“I umm... that is the ladies dresses are over here,” he said indicating another table full of bright colours.
*Aya, that bastard is shielded. All I got from him is menace. I think he may be like us so keep your mind shielded round him.*
Ken walked to the door and watched the man with a keen intensity he normally reserved for recon missions. “I saw him last night, standing out on the boardwalk across the street from the hotel.”
The shopkeeper debated keeping his mouth shut, then he said, “You young men are best not worrying about him. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”
“I suspect not,” Yohji drawled, but there was an unmistakable glint in his eyes. The same glint he got when he was confronted with the dark beasts they used to hunt.
Meanwhile Aya-chan shuddered. The way that man had looked at her had made her feel like she had no clothes on. Not a position she would ever wish to be in with him.
Aya turned back to the shopkeeper. “So the gold and a hundred buys four outfits and a coat,” he said as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “How much for tobacco and the gun my friend seems interested in?”
“Depends on the gun,” the shopkeeper replied.
“Okay, you can talk that over with him. We still need to look at cloth for our employer and my tall friend here.”
Aya-chan wandered over to the ladies table and picked up a very odd-looking contraption. Deciding she didn’t like the look of it she put it back down and picked up a cobalt blue dress.
Farfarello moved over to the door, “I’ll watch. Pick out a pair of jeans for me, waist should be twenty-six, length is thirty-two.”
Ken nodded, “That guy gave me the creeps.”
Farfarello turned his amber eye on Ken, “Me too.”
The ex-Weiss blinked. He’d never thought to hear an admission like that from any of the Schwarz, especially not Farfarello.
Yohji pointed to a plain looking revolver with an ivory handle. “That one.”
The shopkeeper frowned, “You don’t have enough money for that.”
“Then we’ll get it,” the blonde said flatly.
“Well get it and come back,” the shopkeeper stated.
Aya had had more than enough of both the storekeeper and his store by now. “We’ve all got jeans,” he said in Japanese, “so just pick out a shirt each. Aya, if you want that dress bring it over here.”
When Aya-chan brought the dress across he added the coat to it and the shirts that the others handed to him. “Tobacco,” he said to Carter in English, “and the gun my friend wants. Does the tailor sell cloth?”
“No,” the storekeeper said.
“Schu, pick out the right cloth for Brad, please.” Again it had been said in rapid Japanese.
Schuldig eyed the bolts of cloth and selected a good quality, pale grey worsted. Then he picked out a royal blue cotton for a shirt.
“Add them to the pile,” Aya instructed, “Yohji, see if any of the damned shirts will fit you and if not pick out some cloth.”
"Now," in patient English, "how much?"
The man was staring at the foreign man with the red hair and the pallid complexion with something approaching hate, “Give me the gold and the hundred and get out.”
Yohji turned to Carter, a lazy smile forming on his lips, “Look, we’re customers. We work for Mr. Crawford. He’s an American from out East and he sent us down here to get a few things we need. He’s a very wealthy and influential man, is Mr. Crawford. Now, can we do this in a nice, civilized manner, or..” he took a step closer to the shopkeeper, “do we have to tell our boss how we couldn’t get the things he sent us for because you were being an ass?”
Carter wasn’t stupid. Word had already spread about the bespectacled easterner who had won big at the saloon last night. If he was wealthy…
“What say I open an account for Mr Crawford and we put all your things on that?”
“Now you’re beginning to make some sense,” Aya said. “But I’ll give you the gold and the hundred to put against the purchases. Can we choose the rest of our purchases now?”
“Of course.” Suddenly Carter couldn’t do enough for them.