We'd been forced to abandon the bodies.

Forced to abandon them as we ran away from that mission gone horribly wrong. Forced to. Unable to betray our comrades last words. And so, two broken figures had darted into the night.

We'd gone home in a silence only jarred by the noise of the car engine. It was uncomfortable. I'd wanted to whistle, sing, make a remark about him having a crush, or just do something to try and break the oppressive silence. A silence that bespoke of the glaring emptiness that seemed to simultaneously fill and rend the air with the death and absence of two people who should have been with us. But in a way, the silence was theirs. Their last possession. And so, the entire way home, neither of us spoke.

It took a while for the fact that they were gone to sink in. The petite blonde who smiled at everyone with brilliant blue eyes, and the magenta-haired beauty who we had always looked to for direction... gone. Both of them.

Kritiker agents had later retrieved their bodies and arranged an accidental car crash. The local female populace that frequented the flower shop had been shocked and heartbroken. It seemed like Omi's fan club took it hardest, but everyone mourned. Even now, a month later, we still get consolation gifts from the girls.

Things have gradually picked up a new, yet comfortable monotony. The two of us in the flower shop. No missions. From what we've heard recently, Persia's been killed and Manx has taken up leadership of Kritiker. Or at least, that's how it sounds from the communiqués we've been receiving twice a week ever since that night. Knowing Manx, this newfound tranquillity won't last long.

And how right I was. Things are changing again. The shop is closed for the night and we're standing in front of Birman... and the two Kritiker recruits who are to join Weiß, bringing us back to an operational status. God I hate change.

Not that the two kids look bad. Quite the opposite, in fact. Especially the taller one. He's not quite as tall as I am, but not as short as Ken, either. Grey-green eyes look over the rim of his sunglasses as we stand there, taking in first Ken and then me, lightly glossed lips smirking when his gaze reaches my face. His hair is quite a bit longer than mine - deep jet-black that shines silver when the light hits it right - hanging a few inches past the middle of his back.

I return the smirk, thinking about the tickets I have for the Black and White dance tonight as that familiar sensation clicks in my stomach. Lust/desire. I want him. I want to dance him into frustrated oblivion and then drag him home and have wonderfully sexy sex, more than enough to drive away my demons, enough so that all I can think of is him and what it feels like to move against that shapely body.

As I look at him something tugs at my heart. A feeling that maybe he'll be more than just someone to drive away the darkness. A feeling that maybe my fellow killer will be there, and will understand. And maybe when I wake up with my gut twisting in upon itself from dreams that I can't remember any more of except that they had something to do with Omi and Aya... Maybe, maybe when that happens I'll wake up looking up into smoky greyish green eyes and everything'll be all right.

It's this fact more than any other that makes me ignore the possible tensions seducing a teammate could bring up. Not that that really would have stopped me in the first place... And judging from the appraising look he's running over my body, it seems like he'll be more than receptive. Dancing, sex, and maybe more with such a lovely is all too tempting a prospect.

The other one is attractive in the same athletic way as Ken, except with a more refined and mysterious edge, and even a hint of adorable naïveté. He stands there anxiously, fingers tangled in his chocolate hued locks that sport prevalent gold streaks, while occasionally tossing glances at Birman, waiting for her to introduce them or something. The only response he's getting is a deepening of the smug smirk of her face.

I'm actually rather pleased that Kritiker doesn't seem to be trying to replace Aya and Omi. I don't think that Ken and I would have been able to work to their satisfaction if we were constantly being slapped in the face with the fact that our old teammates were dead. Dead dead dead. Even now it sends me into fits of depression if I think about it. Depression over how I could never save any of them. And how they all die the same way. So I try not to think about it, ending up at bars, clubs, and motels even more frequently than before.

Finally the one with sunglasses steps forward, rolling his eyes with hands resting on his hips. "Nice to meet you all... I'm Shita. Gin'iro Shita." He says with a melodramatic gesture, plainly asking that we complete the introductions. I go next, winking at Shita as I do so, who then graces me with a smile. Then the other boy to join our team introduces himself.

"Hajimemashite! Boku wa Kagerou Hari!" He says with an energetic grin. Ken's smiling at the boy as he introduces himself as well. I think those two will get along quite well. Birman smiles at us and then finally starts explaining things.

"As you've probably guessed, these two are joining Weiß. Unfortunately, you're only going to have three days to get to know each other before the mission." She says with a soft smile. Three days... That's Friday. Dammit. I think she arranged that on purpose. I've already got a date. I was about to make a comment, but Shita speaks up first with a few muted curses.

From the look he's fixing her with I can tell that we're not talking wine and dine, we're talking dancing, alcohol, and sex. It makes me wonder what he's hiding from on those dance floors and in those cheap motels.

Birman flashes a devious smirk at us. "Guess you'll have to reschedule, ne?" It really looks like she planned this. Either that or she was counting on the fact that we'd both have dates no matter which night she picked.

Shita rolls his eyes and pulls out a cell phone that is obviously Kritiker-given. I can see Birman bristle at the fact that he's using a phone probably intended for emergency contact to reschedule a date. And then I'm subjected to finding out exactly what the sweet talk I feed my dates on a nightly basis sounds like when I'm not the one saying it. It's hideously sugary and almost makes me want to laugh. But, considering how many times I've said the exact same things, I don't.

Ken and Hari are unable to similarly restrain themselves though.

After taking Shita's cell phone, forcing pagers identical to the one's Ken and I sport upon the two newest members of Weiß, and making sure that there are two useable rooms, Birman left.

Immediately afterwards, Hari asked about a TV, because of some big soccer game that was starting in two minutes. Ken's face lit up like a teenager in love, and the two grabbed a bag of popcorn, and then stretched out together in front of the TV, discussing the various teams they liked and who they thought was going to win the current game.

That left Shita and me together and alone.

We stood there in silence for several minutes, and then with a smile, I turned to show him to his room, helping him with one of his bags, and pointing out the only bathroom on the way. My smile turns into a grin as I give him the room closest to mine. Ken and Hari would probably prefer having their rooms together anyway.

I lounge on the bed as he unpacks his clothes and stuff. We talk about meaningless things... Clothes, music, and clubs mostly. Then I see him pull out his weapon; two lengths of razor edged chains with four knives attached to each. On a sudden impulse I get up and cross behind him, my hands lightly grabbing on to his hips and my body almost touching his. "Show me," I demand softly.

He hesitates for a moment and then nods, wrapping the chain lightly around his hands, and then starts them moving. They start out slowly, moving back and forth, and then quickly picking up speed until they are moving in full circles to both sides of us.

The knives spin in circles as well, direction dictated by the movement of the chains. The sound as they rend the air inches to either side of us fills my ears and I breathe in deeply the sent of the boy in front of me. He smells like raspberries. Raspberries and a tart secondary scent that I can't quite place.

After a moment he slows their motions and gradually brings them to a stop. I step away as he coils his weapon, placing it in a small drawer in the dresser directly to our right.

I have to admit that he's good. Very good, actually. Very controlled. He smiles at me, raising an eyebrow at me, and then leans back against the dresser almost lazily. "Show me," he murmurs softly.

I approach him with a mysterious smile, then pull out one of the dance tickets I have for the Crystal Chain's 'Black and White Dance', dangling it by his face. I grin broadly as he catches it between his teeth. I knew as soon as I saw him that he would be the one I'd take with me tonight. And I know without asking that if he has a date for tonight, it'll be either rescheduled or canceled.

I then lean in close to him, my hands run down his sides to rest on his hips as my breath teases at his ear. Gone before I realize it was there, leaving only the echoes of sorrow, Omi's scream surfaces in my memory.

"And I'm going to keep my little secrets," I whisper, hoping that he'll never knows all of my secrets. Pulling away, I smile broadly at him, at the life and daring in him, refusing to compare that spark to a redheaded one I don't know anymore.

Five minutes later, trying to keep the dark ghosts out of my room, there comes a knock on my door. My, my, I wonder who that could be.

I walk over, open the door, and, wonder of wonders, Shita's standing there holding the ticket and looking awed. I grin and pull him into my room. "Hmm... Now tell me, what's wrong, ne?" I ask softly, turning and hitting the play button on my stereo. We've got at least an hour to kill. And I'm beginning to think that beginning my seduction of this lovely in front of me would be a wonderful way to spend that hour, to escape the darkness haunting me.

He looks at me, almost uncertainly. It's obvious that he's not used to being on the receiving end of such attentions. I idly wonder why. He's certainly pretty enough. My arms wrap around his waist as he starts talking. "Well... You really want me to go with you? I mean the Crystal Chain's Black and White Dance is one of the biggest of the year, and-" I grin and resort to one technique that has never proved me wrong. When someone's going on and on about 'do you really want to', kissing them generally assuages their doubts. Soon we're both swaying to the beat of the music as we kiss. His mouth is responsive and so guardedly willing beneath mine.

And gods can he kiss. By the time we break apart, we're both panting for breath. We still keep moving, grinding to the slow pulse of the music. My hands find their way to his shoulders, pushing the soft yet shiny jacket off of his narrow shoulders and then down his arms until it pools on the floor in a pile that we neatly step around.

He's so alive beneath my fingers. Alive and vibrant and responsive and yet mysterious in a way that is almost familiar, and yet exhilaratingly fresh. Maybe, just maybe, in this warm body that presses against mine in a light caress, in this sexy boy who knows what I am, what I do for a living, maybe, just maybe, I can find more than just someone to make me forget for a moment. It's a hope that's been burning in my chest ever since our gazes met.

As we twist together, blonde caramel waves fall to hang over my eyes, and with a practiced gesture I toss my head, sending my hair settling back. And in that brief moment I see a haunted look flash through in Shita's eyes, and I can tell that in that moment he wasn't seeing me, but someone else who probably suffered the same fate as Omi and Aya.

And then it clicks. Shita and Hari aren't fresh recruits, but the remnants of another team. It brings a sad smile to mind that I manage to refrain from gracing my lips. It seems that we all have our darkness. Looks like tonight we will both hold back the other's dark memories.

I pull Shita's body tight against mine, hands moving down over his back to wrap tight around his waist. "Tonight maybe we can both ignore our demons... Just feel." I whisper in the darkened room, my lips ghosting a bare touch against his forehead.

He acquiesces to my request, his head silently falling to rest against my shoulder with a soft, breathy sigh. We dance like that, until the end of song. Then we change positions, his back to my chest, a position much more accommodating to the faster pop beat of the song. We sway and bend together and then I take his wrist in my hand and spin him elegantly, the echo of a small smile on my face.

I bring him back against my body, face to face and we slide back and forth against each other, achieving a rhythm that has us headed for no where but frustration. It doesn't bother me in the least. Not with what I have planned for him tonight. I met him under an hour ago, and yet, we know more about each other than any of our meaningless dates. Maybe I'm being presumptuous. Maybe I'm comparing him too much to myself. But I don't think so.

We dance like that until the CD spins itself to a stop, pace and movements changing with the differing beats of each song. Then we stood there in silence for a few moments, both of us panting heavily. We lazily pulled apart, and I stood there for a moment longer, relishing that delicious buzzing sensation that had my skin tingling. We would have just enough time to shower, get dressed, grab some of whatever fast food Ken had ordered, and then drive to the club.

He turns to go with a grin and I grab him by the wrist, pulling him back into a quick embrace, my mouth quickly finding his, tasting him again; that syrupy taste of sweetness, darkness, and pounding rhythm. After a moment, I pull away, my mouth sliding down to place feathery butterfly's kisses on his throat. "Black." I whisper softly, the words softly kissing their way over his throat. "Black and silver for me, ne?" I ask softly, then after garnering a nod I release him with a wink.

I decide to let him shower first and settle for picking out my clothes while I wait. White. White with hints of gold. Something white, but stylish... I open my closet and peruse through my choices, and pull out the first thing that catches my eye, a long mid-shin length white vinyl coat. Slowly an idea starts to take shape. I search though my drawers and finally pull out what I am looking for, a sleeveless golden mesh shirt. Then something to complete the outfit... By the time I decided on my white vinyl hip huggers, Shita was just getting out of the shower. Perfect timing.

I stripped out of the clothes that I'd been currently wearing, tossing them in the corner and pulling on a robe. As I headed for the bathroom, I heard Shita's door close. Just my luck. I'd been hoping for an image of Shita clad only in wet hair and a towel, darting to his room. Not that it was likely, but still...

With a sigh I walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I stand for a moment and then let the robe slither off of my body as I turn the water on, nice and hot, just as I like it. I stare at my reflection in the mirror for a few moments as I wait for the water to heat up, thin fingers reaching out against the glass to trace along the line of my jaw. I close my eyes tightly, letting bittersweet memories wash over me for a moment, before they slowly drift away on the steam and I step into the shower. Strong pulses of hot water knead at my back, and I lean into it, slowly guiding the water up over my shoulders, then on to my neck, until the water is steadily threading through my caramel blonde hair, hot water pulsing against my scalp.

I sigh softly as I reach for the bottle of shampoo. There are few things that compete with relaxing feel of a nice hot shower. Sex with the right person just happens to be one of them. And if I've got a chance at both, then who am I to complain? A soft almost-purr leaves my lips as I work the scented lather into my water-slicked hair. And then the horridly inevitable happens. Just as I've worked all the soap into my hair, the water starts to run cold. My eyes go wide and I snap off a mild curse at pretty boys with obscenely long hair.

Next time I'm showering first. No two ways about it.

I make quick work of the suds in my hair and then grab the bar of soap, gritting my teeth at the cold stinging needles of ice water as I work it over my body. That done, I quickly rinse off, turning off the water after I've finished all the necessities.

Shita is going to find himself driven to upper limits of sexual frustration if I have anything to say about it, and seeing as how everything this evening is swirling in the palm of my hand... Well... everything except for the damn temperature of the water... There aren't really any two ways about it.

I run a comb through my hair, smoothing out the kinks, then toss on my robe and head back to my room. I softly towel dry my hair, and then throw it into a ponytail as I start getting dressed. A light grin teases at my lips as I wonder what the lovely next door will be wearing.

I drop the robe to the ground and slide into the gold mesh shirt, feeling the metallic fibers pulling taught over my torso. Next, come my hip huggers, which slide tight over my naked flesh, bindingly tight and form fitting to the extreme. I decide to wait on the coat and instead open the small jewelry box on my dresser. After a few minutes I pull out a thin golden chain necklace which sports a pair of gold angel wings that hangs just barely two inches off of my neck.

Smiling, I pull on a pair of socks and then open up my closet, my eyes raking over each pair of shoes with a critical eye. Obviously something white, with maybe just a touch of gold... After careful deliberation I finally settle on a pair of patent leather knee-high platform boots, with five golden buckles down the front.

I then grab another golden chain, this one more than long enough to thread through the belt loops of my hip huggers, and sporting the same angel wing pendant at the end. I adjust it around my waist so that the excess hangs down my left side.

I then grab a few containers of glitters and such off of my dresser and head back into the bathroom. I don't even bother to close the door as I set them down on the edge the edge of the sink and pull the elastic out of my hair, letting it fall down against the back of my neck. It's almost dry; which is one of the joys of having short hair.

I smile, humming a tune to myself as I again run the brush through my hair until it hangs straight along the side of my face. I then pick up one of the larger containers, dusting my fingertips with the gold dust and start running my fingers through my hair, teasing it into its normal waves. I repeat this until my hair all but shimmers under the light.

I quickly rinse my fingers of the excess gold dust and then I pick up a slightly smaller container, a very pale gold body gel with shining flecks of gold throughout. With one hand I tug the hem of my shirt out of my pants and then coat my fingers with the substance, before easing my fingers beneath the mesh top I'm wearing.

The gel does its work well, giving my skin a golden sheen speckled liberally with glitter. It then gets applied over both my neck and arms before the jar is closed and my fingers again rinsed. I pick up the last jar with a smile. It's just about the same as the last one, a pale gold body gel, but missing the gold flecking that was so prevalent in the other. I dip the pads of my fingers into the cool substance and work it over the larger planes of my face.

As I finish, spreading a thin coat of sparkling gloss over my lips, I catch a flash of black out of the corner of my eye that I know is Shita. I turn expecting some kind of black understated beauty.

Which is not what awaits me.

Understated is the furthest word from my mind as I look at him.

Black patent leather half stiletto half platform boots that lace up in silver to just below his knees, black vinyl bondage pants that look like they've been poured onto his body and sporting study metal loops in all the right places.

I'm mentally drooling and I've barely even made it to his waist.

Then there's a belt wrapped tightly around his hips, metal links that seem as suggestive as the rest of him, a black vinyl corset with silver velvet lacing that draws my eyes up along that several inch wide trail of perfect skin. Then my eyes pause briefly at the necklace that I missed before, delicate silver links with a dangling silver disk the size of a quarter, emblazoned with an intricate jade 'S' that makes my mind reel with startling possibilities.

When the gears in my head finally stop spinning my eyes resume their trek over his body, noting the silver body glitter that accents his alabaster white skin perfectly, and the mercury silver gloss that coats his lips and the light powder that tints his eyelids the same color. My eyes comb over his loose hair, dried and just slightly curling around the rhinestones that are woven in throughout the length of it. Then back down his face and over his bared shoulders to the fingerless gloves and the ring on the middle finger of his right hand that mirrors the necklace. A simple silver band with a smaller jade 'S' embedded in the center of the band.

I have the distinct impression that someone feels rather possessive about him, either that or the 'S' is symbolic of his name and he just has a thing for jade. But I doubt it. With an impish grin I pin him to the bathroom door and kiss him, lifting him off the ground and up against the door, pinning him there with my hips flush against his, as my lips press hard against his. I work his lips open with mine, my tongue thrusting deep into his mouth, tasting that deliciously elusive sweetness. Then I release him with a gasp.

Whoever has claimed him is going to find their pretty little precious seduced out from under them. No one's ever been able to keep me from what I want, and I don't plan on starting now.

With a mysterious smile I lead him by the wrist from the bathroom into my room, gently pushing him down onto the edge of the bed as I look through the jewelry box, locating the small pair of silver angel wings and the silver ring that sports the same emblem. I then close it and walk back over to him, slowly sliding the angel wings onto the necklace he wears as my mind takes in the shock and uncertainty that flickered in his eyes. Then the ring slides onto his ring finger, nestled nicely next to the jade one.

With an affectedly innocuous smile I pull him to his feet and then grab my jacket sliding into it easily. "Now we get to find out what delicious dinner Ken has waiting for us." I say with a smile, transferring the contents of my standard jacket into the one I'm wearing tonight.

Shita grins, the tension ebbing away. "Hai. Though, if Hari had anything to do with it, we're probably dealing with take-out." He says, and I shake my head. Is it legal for two people to be that similar without being either related or in love? Well, give it time and the latter will probably end up ringing true. And then, both of us descend downstairs to haunt the kitchen.

There we find the two soccer fanatics engaged in a rather animated discussion about Ken's soccer playing past, which continues unabated around us, as Shita and I scrounge up what's left of the take-out sushi.

Their conversation slowly fades away as we polish off the sushi and then make our way to the door. As we're about to walk out into the night, Hari turns to Shita with a softly spoken question. "No flowers tonight?" He inquires, and then as the lovely beside me turns to face him, tension suddenly envelops the room, all but dripping off of the walls as they stare at each other. The air is suffocatingly thick. Enough so as to cut with the proverbial knife.

"Iie," Shita says, finally breaking the tense silence as me and Ken release breaths that we didn't even know we were holding, "I'm not going to see him tonight." He says with an almost defiant set to his chin as he spins on his heel and walks out the door, gone just fast enough to miss Hari's parting comment.

"Yah... But he'll come to see you." His eyes then flash wide and he bites his bottom lip with that distinct look of someone who didn't really think at all about what they just said. His eyes flash to Ken, who smiles reassuringly and leads him up to his room as I quickly walk out the door after Shita.

This is NOT starting off well.