Chosen (chapter seven)

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ...supernatural (for lack of better terms), violence in this chapter

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^_^;;;;

Author's Notes:

7 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help. This is currently un-Beta-ed. After these seven years, I've lost contact with my beta reader. If there are any volunteers, please let me know!

Thanks: There are so many of you now, it's hard to keep track! Special thanks go to my recent reviewers who really left encouragements. I feel all warm and giggly when I read them. Lol. Special thanks to blackorcid, Kate the Night, Sammie, RodiSquall, & Lizz.

Voices are fuzzy when I begin to stir. I know I'm hearing unfamiliar voices, so I keep my eyes shut for now since I'm not one-hundred percent certain if the owners of the voices are nearby. It won't do to let them know that I've mostly regained consciousness. I'm not sure how long I've been out. Sedatives are tricky like that; Omi once tried to explain it to me when he was toying with the possibility of tranquilizer darts. Something about the exact dosage being needed for the target, otherwise it'll do one of two things (besides knock the target unconscious for a short amount of time): do absolutely nothing (which obviously wasn't the case here) or kill them by stopping the heart or lungs or something. So...I've already been way too close to death for comfort once already. Omi made the most sense when he summed it up with 'well, anesthesiologists wouldn't be needed if anyone could do it'. It made sense that way. They went to school for it, presumably a lot of school. Somehow I doubt my 'doctors' here went to school for much of anything.

Over the course of a few minutes, my keen sense of hearing is mostly restored. They're bickering, whoever they are, about how to begin my 'trials'. Trials? Really? What the fuck? What've I done to merit a trial? Not that I should be complaining about something that could take up time and allow for rescue, but it doesn't make a lot of sense. Of course, most of this case hasn't made sense up until now, so why should it change? Again I hear them butcher the word 'messiah'. Not much else stands out, really. So I'm the messiah, huh? Pssh. Weirdest cult ever if they think that. I mean, sometimes I pretend that I'm an awesome vigilante for justice, but that's really just me trying to cope with the fact that I kill people on nearly a daily basis. Aya called it rationalization once, I think. He actually agreed when I rephrased it for Ken as 'whatever helps you sleep at night'. Okay, as close to agreeing as Aya gets. Speaking of Aya, where the fuck is he? I could really use the back up right about now.

I take the risk to crack one eye open. I see feet and legs - a lot of them. The room's not very bright, but it's definitely not the room I was attacked in. Here my mind goes in to overdrive. I don't remember there being a side room or anything to the basement of Fury. There sure as hell weren't multiple exits on the building plans Omi acquired. So where the hell am I? Surely they couldn't have gotten me out of the basement without the rest of Weiss noticing. Even Ken's not THAT unobservant...right? Ah hell.

A boot steps backward onto my hand and I don't curb the instinct to pull away fast enough. "Ah... Awake, are we?" It's almost a familiar voice. I'm struggling to place it. I can't fight the paranoid reaction to pull myself into a seated position, which they surprisingly allow (I wouldn't have allowed a victim to gain any sort of control). I try to surreptitiously check for my watch, but only meet bare skin.

"Yes, that was a surprise, thank you very much." The deep voice comments, obviously seeing my motions. My eyes are open all the way and I'm trying to look around despite the dizziness. "You'll find that we've confiscated your weapon for safety's sake." He chuckles.

I finally hone in on which of the people is speaking. I blink. I remember to breathe. I blink again. Red contacts and his hair pulled back, dressed in black-on-black I'm-a-cultist business suit is Hideo. Sonofbitch. He chuckles. "My mother was rather demanding and whiny, so I'll let you pass on that one." He smirks at me. I apparently said that out loud. He looks down at my now-crouching form in sheer amusement. I hate cocky targets. I barely pause to wonder how I can shift someone from acquaintance to target in half a second. Betrayal knows my name so well.

Fuck it. "What the hell is going on?" Play dumb. Act confused. Pretend you don't know anything about their freaky little cult games.

He fake-chuckles. "As if you didn't know." Shit. I start looking for an easy exit. "We've been searching for you for a long time, Messiah." He informs me casually, articulating the word perfectly. Guess he'd have to know English if he lives with Josh. I glance around. The crowd appears to be absent one American bartender. Well, maybe I wasn't completely betrayed. Ha. Un-fucking-likely.

"Messiah?" I ask. Well, I've been wanting to know about this nonsense anyway. No time like the present to ask since I'm surrounded and can't see well enough to find an exit, as there are no handy neon EXIT signs anywhere visible.

He steps forward, stopping maybe a yard or so from me. "Yes. I'm certain you know what a Messiah is."

I blink. That's not an assumption I'd have made, but okay. "Perhaps not how you're using the word." I'm still looking for the weakest links in the crowd, hoping that those have useful weapons.

He rolls his eyes at me and sighs. "You can be incredibly dense." His arms cross in front of him. "For your crimes you will be tried by two courts and if either find you guilty of your charges, you will be sentenced appropriately."

I stagger to my feet. "What crimes? What the hell have I done?" I mean really, what have I done to these people? I haven't even successfully thwarted them at anything. For everything I HAVE done in life, doing nothing is what I'll be punished for? WTF karma?

Two significantly burly men shove my shoulders downward, but I instinctively twist my body to remain upright since they didn't hold on to my shoulders. This does not please them in any way, shape, or form. Instead of trying it again like I would expect of such brutes, they kick the back of my knees and I go crashing down. I hate underestimating the muscle.

"Take him to the courtroom." Hideo orders the two muscles behind me, who immediately pick me up beneath my arms like I'm nothing at all.

Of course, being prideful, I lash out with strong kicks, which only seem to be a minor inconvenience to them. Where the hell did Hideo find these guys, the Sumo Surplus Store? I'm hefted away, kicking and bitching the entire way.

I've managed to fail to prevent myself from having my arms bound behind my back, bound by coarse rope, no less. I pissed off the muscle enough to merit a few good punches. By good punches, I do mean that one threw me into the other's punch. Physically tossed me into the air to be met with a fist. Talk about brute strength, sheesh. I don't think anything's broken, nor do I think they've managed to rupture anything internally. I assume internal bleeding would hurt a bit more than this.

"For what charges does the accused stand trial?" Hideo's cult-leader voice booms from a raised dias.

I look around because I honestly want to hear this. Various cult members look at one another like frightened and confused children. One young man, obviously more looks than brains (which is sad in his case, trust me), pipes up. "Anou...Being the mesh-ee-yah?" I don't fully muffle a chortle. Really? That's it?

Hideo blinks and gives a barely audible sigh. "What, as the messiah, has the accused done? What WILL he be capable of?" He prods, obviously getting miffed that his game isn't going according to the script in his head.

This last prompt gets more of a reaction. Several people of still-questionable intelligence speak up now. "He defends the heretics."

"He protects the wicked."

"He heals our enemies!"

"He created the heretics!"

By now my eyebrow is fully arched in full confusion. When the hell have I ever done that? Okay, I defended that one lady who was getting beaten, but that's it.

An extremely familiar face steps forward from the crowd - Professor Asks-Irritating-Questions. "He seals away our master's true power." He states calmly and confidently.

At this, Hideo smiles broadly and the crowd makes various noises ranging from agreement to slow realization. "Do we want our master to rise?" He asks the crowd, standing up from his rather boring looking chair. The crowd whoops and shouts in agreement. "How then can he rise to power when this holy seal prevents him from doing so?" He shouts to the crowd, turning his eyes to me, fake red boring into my own green. To be honest, if the situation weren't quite so dire, I'd laugh because of how comically possessed he looks with those fake red contacts in. Under the circumstances, however, it's kind of unnerving. The possessed part, at least. Not that I think he's really possessed by any sort of demon or whatever; no, this is pure madness incarnate, which is infinitely more terrifying (not to mention real). "What must we do for our master?" He shouts to the crowd again.

"Destroy the seal!" Most of them manage to shout in unison.

Well, that doesn't bode well at all. Shit. I start looking around for escape routes in earnest this time. This seems to be a warehouse of some sort, judging from the exposed rafters. It's always a warehouse, isn't it? I'm going to develop an aversion to all storage facilities by the time Kritiker lets me go.

"And why, if any reason, should the messiah go free?" Hideo asks, presumably to make this seem 'fair'.

The crowd looks at each other again, dumbfounded. A rather dull-looking goth girl raises her hand and is acknowledged by Hideo. "Because he stands with our master?"

I turn to Hideo because here's the other piece of the puzzle I agonized about. What was it about my interaction with Aya that made them so damn convinced that we're the messiah and master?

Hideo sneers at me briefly. "And did anyone witness our master's greatness?" Silence. "No! His gaze pierced all, but he remained powerless because of the messiah's seal!" He stamps his foot.

Okay, I'm confused. Aya glared at them and did nothing, so he's their master? I stood up for someone, so I'm a messiah? Huh. Makes perfect sense. If you're insane.

"Our master remains bound to the messiah's seal, acting only with the messiah's permission!" He continues to rant, spittle actually flying out of his mouth. He's passionate about his delusions regarding Aya. Thank goodness they chose to stalk me, not that I really appreciate it, but it keeps Aya out of the more-obvious danger zone. Wait...when the hell did I ever give Aya permission to do anything? This guy is batshit crazy.

"He can only act freely once the messiah is destroyed!" He's really working himself into a frenzy up there. The crowd cheers in agreement. Sigh. So much for having a second trial; that seems a little unnecessary since I'm obviously guilty. Please note my dripping sarcasm there. "We have tested many and many have failed! We have had our slaughter of the innocents. Now, we have our true Messiah!" Well, that ties them to all my corpses and probably all the missing persons at least. Not that that helps me at the moment.

"And HOW should he be destroyed? What punishment fits his crimes?" Hideo asks the crowd, trying again to squeeze some intelligent answers out of them. Well, as intelligent as any of this nonsense is.

God love their hearts (all irony intended there), they're just staring at him with this bewildered expression. Don't get me wrong, there are a few that are getting into it here; they're mostly clustering around the professor. I continue testing the ropes that bind my wrists. I keep thinking that if I fidget with it enough, it'll work its way loose, but that doesn't seem to be happening. Someone really knew how to tie knots. The crowd is gathered in a semi-circle around dais upon which Hideo's 'preaching', which makes it difficult to look for an exit around them. I try to see around Hideo instead. It seems like they've partitioned off sections of this warehouse, with what I don't know, I guess to separate the 'courtroom' from the, well, where ever I was before this. Professor Irritating speaks up when it's obvious that no one else knows. "What else would you do with a messiah?" I blink. Were it me, I'd kill it quickly before it can do some sort of freaky magic miracles or some shit. "Crucifixion." He finishes. The dumber ones of the crowd gasp in what I guess is awe. Yep. Cause I'd take the time and effort to crucify someone I wanted dead. Makes perfect sense. Fuck, no, it doesn't. I'm guessing that they're just making full usage of the Jesus parallel. I don't think these people are Satanists; they're just plain crazy. He's got a small army of impressionable youths willing to do as he says for one reason or another, whether they believe his messiah nonsense or not.

"Yes!" Hideo shouts while giving a huge grin, sounding infinitely pleased that someone is on the same page as he is. He sobers quickly. "Is this enough, though? Will it alone atone for his crimes?" He asks.

"What fucking crimes?" I finally yell. It's not my brightest moment, but then again I've never been known for my IQ.

His red contact-laden eyes settle upon my kneeling form. He calms his furor at my outburst. "Bow," is all he says. I raise an eyebrow. Like I'm gonna bow to him. The sumo guys have already forced me to my knees (if my knees make it out of here without severe injury, I'll be hella surprised); I'm sure as hell not bowing. His glance flickers behind me and he gives a barely perceptible nod. A hand grabs the back of my head and tries to force it forward, but I put all my effort in to resisting. No, I tell myself, I will bow to no man. My shoulders are pushed forward this time, but I continue my resistance. Ogg and Trog have finally had enough of my insolence and use their full force to slam me face first into the concrete floor. Oh shit, that fucking hurt! The sparkly floaty bits finally fade while the crowd is cheering. I tilt my head up so I can see something, anything other than the floor. Through the still-swirling world in front of me I can see that Hideo has moved forward to stand in front of my face. I don't contain the impulse to spit on his shoes. What did I tell you, I'm not known for my brains. He sneers and kicks me almost square in my left eye; I shifted enough just in time for it to partially catch my cheekbone. I don't fancy having a ruptured eyeball. I at least have THAT much sense.

"We'll go through the whole gamut for you." He smiles, at least I think he smiles. He either has a soccer-like kick or he's wearing some steel-toed boots, so I'm not seeing too straight at the moment. The crowd's making some noise now; they had silenced when I spat on Hideo's boots.

"I'm afraid we don't have the proper equipment for all of them, but we'll make due." Oh good, I get a poor cult. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than one who can afford all the fancy pain-makers. "Stoning was done in medieval times, I'm sure you know. Little spots of pain all over the body where each rock hit." He muses, keeping his voice well above the now mostly-quiet crowd. He pauses for a few seconds, presumably to 'build the excitement'.

"Regrettably we don't have many rocks, but I know something that can simulate the experience rather well." Oh, shame. No rocks? No more than what's in these people's heads, at least. He gives me one of the most cruelly hedonistic grins I've seen yet. "I think being kicked will suffice in their place." His face changes to all business. "All of you, kick him and don't stop until I say to." He pivots, walks off a distance, and snaps his fingers. I start to move to go after him, but the crowd starts closing in.

Oh hell no. Not without a fight, at least. I do sense the inevitability of thirty-plus against one already injured person, even if that person is a trained assassin. Still face down on the ground, I shift my weight to roll onto my side, keeping the weight mostly on my shoulders so I can whip kick some of these assholes. I connect with two people's legs and they go sprawling down as the crowd presses in. Good. I hope they get trampled.

The first kick lands right on my kidneys. Whomever that fucker is was either lucky or had a plan. The second catches my side before instinct kicks in and I curl in to protect my abdomen. Varying in their intensity, the rest fall in such quick succession that I almost immediately lose count.

When I regain consciousness this time around, I again wait and listen before opening my eyes. I can only hear far-off noises, probably from the other side of the warehouse. Now, I take stock of my equilibrium to tell me how my body is positioned. Fetal position, left side of the body. Next, I test my arms. Still bound behind me. Legs: bound, currently curled up at about a 60 degree angle from my stomach. It feels like my neck and head are craned forward. Pain level: pretty damn intense. I'm sure I've had worse, probably when I was shot and dying before Kritiker 'rescued' me. Okay, time to open the eyes.

...It's dark. Well, that was helpful. From the tiny bit of ambient light escaping from the cracks in the cult's crude partitions of the warehouse, I can see that I'm in a cage of some sort. I move my head a little, getting somewhat nauseous for my efforts.

Oh fuck no. This is fucking dog kennel! They put in me in a goddamn dog kennel!

I take a few breaths to calm myself. Out of everything, I guess it's not TOO bad. I could be suspended from a hook or cramped in a smaller box that I can't see out of. It always helps to imagine something worse. Don't get me wrong, this is degrading as hell, but no one ever really dies from humiliation. Even if they killed themselves; they didn't die from the humiliation itself, just from their own overreacting. It's all in how you perceive it. At least no one can kick me without having to go through the cage first. That's gotta be something...

I sigh. It does suck. I can't even estimate how long I've been here due to the bouts of unconsciousness. Goddamnit, Aya, where the fuck are you? I'm gonna guess that after I surprised them with the garroting watch, they made sure to check my person and remove the mic. Just a hunch. The members may be retarded, but Hideo and the professor aren't (crazy, yes; that stupid, no, unfortunately).

I pick up the sound of footsteps and, unfortunately for me, they're coming closer and closer. Shit. I'd hoped just to stay in my kennel here like a good dog until Ay-Ran comes to get me. I'll wag my tail like a happy loyal pet if that were to happen instead of what I'm actually anticipating.

"Messiiiiiah..." a voice, one which happens to be getting on my nerves, singsongs at me. Hideo. I have a name, you know. I'll even wear it on a collar if A-Ran comes to pick me up right this moment... I keep hoping that maybe I was just knocked out by a mosh pit in the basement or something and I'm just having a nightmare. I had been having them more frequently, even to the point of screaming and requiring 'rescue' from Ran. "I know you're awake, there's no sense in pretending." Yeah, I'm just going to sit right up and start chatting with you. Maybe we'll even have tea. I hear him sigh and snap his fingers. All at once, my cage door is opened just before it's roughly upturned.

Without any sense of grace, being tied up and all, I fall out of the dog kennel and onto the concrete floor. "Ouch!" I yell in indignance. "Can't a guy nap around here?" Still, not known for smarts.

Hideo snorts, possibly a form of chuckling. We'll go with that, at least. "You've been unconscious for well over an hour. Surprising, for one with divine powers. Naughty of you to try luring us into that false sense of security." He clucks his tongue in a disapproving fashion. "Now that we know you've just been faking it, we'll resume your punishments."

Oh, yay! Punishments! Just what I wanted when I woke up this morning...afternoon...whatever it was. I roll to my side to face Hideo out of habit. I don't like not seeing what's coming.

He smiles down at me. "Our makeshift stoning worked better than anticipated, so we'll be moving on to pressing." He tucks his hands in his pockets as the muscles heft me up by my bound arms. My shoulders are so not going to like it when they're untied. I'm going to be so stiff.

Pressing turns out not to be a giant ironing board and iron (thankfully), but instead is a piece of plywood with four-point restraints. The muscles knock me around a bit, presumably to keep me from fighting here in a minute when they have to untie me in order to restrain me. Unfortunately, it works in their benefit. I'm too tired and weak to fight back. I don't recall eating since the sandwich Aya-Ran made me a day ago. Or was it two days ago? Hell, I don't even know how long I've been here, much less when that was.

Ensconced in my restraints, I roll my head to look at Hideo. He's standing a meter or two away from my left side, smiling down at me. The smile is really starting to piss me off, but I guess I'd be smiling too if I knew I had my opponent at such a disadvantage. I sigh inwardly.

"Now," Hideo begins his lecture as the goths assemble around me in what I presume to be a circle. While I'm technically flat parallel against the floor, I still cannot see above my own head. "Pressing, in ancient times, was performed by tying a person, usually a witch or heretic, down and placing a board atop them." The professor and a muscle helpfully place another slightly smaller piece of plywood on my chest. I can still see, which could be a good or bad thing, depending on your perspective of the situation. I like seeing what's coming, so I'm happier with this situation than I would be with the alternative. "Weights, usually rocks, were placed on top of the board." He makes a gesture and cinderblocks are tossed onto the board. I let out a huff of air from my lungs. Somehow I didn't expect that. Should have, but didn't. "If the accused would deny the charges, more weight was added in increasing fashion." He nods and another cinderblock is thrown onto the board. This time I'm prepared and tense up before the impact.

I train my eyes on Hideo, in all his ridiculous red-contact-eyed glory. "And what, exactly, are you trying to get me to confess to?" I ask, having already guessed the range of nonsense answers they'll give me.

Hideo raises an eyebrow. Yeah, I know it was a dumb question, but I'm trying to stall here. "Oh, you know, speeding, public intoxication, being the reincarnation of the son of God, the usual." He finishes with a slow blink of his cartoonishly red eyes.

Well, not entirely expected. Okay, the Messiah slop was anticipated, but not the abundance of sarcasm. In any other situation, and I do mean ANY other, it would have been pretty funny. Not so much when it's my ass on the line. "Confess, confess, and deny, respectively." I retort smoothly, despite the probable 30 pounds of weight on my chest.

Hideo gives me that smile of his in return and nods to his followers. Another cinderblock is tossed roughly on. "Do you deny standing with the Master?" He asks in a relatively normal tone of voice, for him at least.

I raise an eyebrow this time. "The redhead?" I ask, seeing as this is likely the only time I can confirm whether or not A- Ran is the other target of their delusions.

The red eyes roll at my question. "Of course. The only other people you've been near is the heretic and my brother." He crosses his arms. "You were bad news in the beginning. I could tell by your empathy for my dream."

This time I'm sure my eyebrow hits my hairline.

He huffs. "The dark flora offering." He prompts, irritated at having to jog my memory.

Oh. The ugly-ass flower arrangement. He hugged me over that piece of shit. Never thought one of my flower arrangements would get me killed, to be honest. I didn't think they were that bad, or good, for that matter. "Ah." Is all I can manage, still bewildered that filling a florist order is what pinned me as their Messiah.

He gives a frustrated growl. Maybe he's displeased by my lack of response on that one. "Do you deny standing with our Master?" He repeats firmly, fingers starting to dig into his black-suited arms.

I frown. We're really going to belabour this point? "I guess not." I spit out. Can't really deny being seen with Ay-Ran. He smiles broadly, but I cut him off. "But Lucifer was once the highest angel, loved by God above all others. Should it be so strange that he and the messiah speak?" I probably oughtn't play into these delusions, but I'm hoping it'll buy me time, if not forestall the inevitable indefinitely.

His smile fades, then slowly reforms into a miniature version. "I suppose not, though you remember how that ended." He begins to pace in a semi-circle around my platform. I can only see him when he's at either side; the cinderblocks block the view of my feet. "When the Morningstar stood with God, his glory was dimmed by the heavenly seal of God. It wasn't until he became prince of this earth that his true power came forth."

I don't contain the urge to roll my eyes. Thank goodness I learned to bullshit long ago. "What power? The power to hide away and tempt just as many people as God leads to do good deeds?" I give a snort. Well, it's true.

Hideo grabs a cinderblock and slams it down on my chest. "His power is far greater than that, imbecile!" He snarls at me, spittle spraying my face. So gross. I hope this guy doesn't have any diseases. "The harbingers will sound the trumpets and Satan will rise, leading his army to battle that of the angels. The second angelic war will begin and God will be no more. The Master will have rule over Heaven and Earth!" The muscle toss another cinderblock onto the pile.

Yeah, batshittery. Just sayin'. I'm getting sick of this nonsense and my chest is starting to hurt. "To what end? To rule over the angels he's slaughtered or the powerless, if not dead, people? What good will that do for him, being the ruler of nothingness?"

With another snarl, another cinderblock is added. "Power is power, my dear Messiah. He will rebuild the world as he sees fit." Hideo leans back, recomposing himself somewhat.

I let out a muffled chuckle. It's hard to do any sort of breathing with what feels like 80 pounds on my chest. Is this how asthmatics feel? If so, man, I ought to lay off smoking just in case I end up with emphysema. I can't imagine that being any better. "Hideo, how did you come about all this 'knowledge'?" I don't quite manage to hide the mocking tone of my voice when I refer to his delusions. Not being able to breathe properly is probably causing some oxygen deprivation, or at least that's what I'll blame this lack of brain-to-mouth filter on.

He lifts his nose to look down at me. "Research. Years of research and conversations with the Master's subordinates." He replies as though this should be obvious and impressive. He nods and another cinderblock is added to my collection, presumably for my insolence.

I don't manage to suppress what would have been a chuckle if I weren't being crushed. It comes out as a pained wheeze instead. "Who the hell did you talk to? Other crazy people?" I hate how hindsight works, knowing that saying that will not end in my favour.

Unsurprisingly, he does not take the question well. Apparently he takes great offense to being called crazy. He's ranting and raving about how this isn't madness, it's truth. Or some shit. I'm not sure. The muscles have each thrown on an additional cinderblock, maybe in defense of their leader's supposed sanity. Black spots are starting to appear and flashes of light are trailing around my peripheral vision, so I'm not 100% focused on whatever Hideo's babbling about. My brain needs oxygen too badly for me to care about his delusions at this point.

"The lords of hell have identified you specifically as the Messiah and so you shall be treated as such!" That much breaks through my senses. Lords of hell. I'm going to be so paranoid of all religions if I make it out of here. Ran, please show up soon...

I can hear Hideo demand more weight, but none immediately comes. Maybe they ran out of cinderblocks. "Akira! Sit on him!" I force myself to focus on my surroundings out of sheer curiosity. Maybe it'll distract me from the pain and visual issues. One of the medium-sized muscles walks toward me and, with no preamble, hops up and sits on the pile of cinderblocks. I hear popping and cracking and I don't think it's from the plywood. The pain surges forward so strongly that I want to vomit. My vision blackens quickly and the last sound I hear is laughter.

Please review/comment/fav. Criticism is always welcome. Things should speed up in the next chapter.