Chapter Forty-Seven - Self Improvement
Nagi was surprised to find he was taking the general studies course again. He'd thought he'd made it clear that he was perfectly well educated. Maybe, now he had a better grasp of German, they wanted to see how well he truly did. He was also back in the Estet Studies and Psychic History classes, much to his irritation. They'd tried brainwashing. They'd failed.
After his little display to Schuldig, he'd decided that perhaps it was time to emerge from the covers again. They were tolerating him for now, but he knew that his insubordination would only be allowed to last so long. They still thought him a weak telekinetic, a minor power. He wasn't sure if his situation would get better or worse if they found out the extent of his talents.
He folded his hands neatly in front of him as he followed his fellow students through the corridors. All in their neat grey, all with their neat hair, all with their empty minds. He could feel it, the flatness of the thoughts. Was that a side effect of spending time with Schuldig, or a talent of his own?
He didn't recognise the neat man standing at the front of the class for several seconds. Then his eyes widened and he stopped abruptly, the windows rattling. Crawford met his eyes for a second, his face perfectly blank. When Nagi sat down he was biting back a smile.
Last time he and Crawford had happened to be in this class at the same time, Crawford had been barely conscious. He'd looked like he'd crawled off the streets.
The suit was crisp and white. The glasses polished so thoroughly Crawford's eyes weren't visible at any point during the whole class. Even his shoes shone. He corrected mistakes before they were made, and stopped fights before they began. It made Nagi a little breathless.
At the end of the class Crawford signalled for him to stay behind.
"You've come a long way in your studies," Crawford said, and Nagi knew he wasn't talking academically.
"Thank you, sensei."
"It seems to me, though, that you might still benefit from some private tutoring in other areas," Crawford told him. "Much as Schuldig did, in fact."
This surprised Nagi. He had suspicions about what had gone on between Crawford and Schuldig, but he hadn't thought Crawford's tastes extended... further.
"I will be frank," Crawford said, apparently guessing the direction of Nagi's thoughts. "You are powerful, and it seems you will be useful to me, but not as you are. I can easily argue that your nationality will be helpful when it comes to the posting I expect to receive in the future, but there are other Japanese students. Your talent is useful, but not unique."
Crawford leant back in his chair, studying Nagi intensely.
"Schuldig told you about my vision," Crawford stated. Nagi saw no need to agree or disagree. "I was not surprised by the people I saw. Do you know what links the four of us?"
Nagi frowned, thinking about it. It couldn't be ideology, or intentions. Farfarello, Schuldig, Crawford and himself all wanted different things, and wanted to go about getting them in different ways.
Crawford looked surprised for a second, before smiling in apparent amusement.
"Sexual desire?" Nagi guessed.
"I wasn't aware it did, but if you say so," Crawford conceded smugly. "No, Nagi, that was not the binding agent I recognised."
Nagi sat up straighter and leant towards the desk. Crawford responded in like.
"Ambition."
"But... We don't all want the same thing."
"But we all want something."
Nagi shook his head, still confused.
"In this school, the only thing you are meant to want for the future is the ascension and security of Rosenkreuz. We all want something bigger than that, for ourselves."
"We're too selfish for the system?" Nagi smirked.
"Exactly."
Nagi nodded. Until they were free, they couldn't stop butting their heads against the wall of Rosenkreuz. Rosenkreuz wouldn't tolerate them. They'd shown that when they took Farfarello away.
Nagi's eyes widened and his head snapped up.
"Farfarello. He's..."
"Not dead," Crawford confirmed. "Missing."
Nagi's relief was evident in his smile.
"We need to work on your poker face," Crawford observed.
"Is that what the tutoring is about?"
"Your survival, yes. Though obviously we will phrase it a little differently to Hertz."
"We have to apply to Hertz?" Nagi tried to hide his fear, but suspected he was only confirming Crawford's conviction he needed help.
"How's your English?" Crawford asked, raising an eyebrow.
Nagi blinked. "We could improve it."
"Good."
Farfarello twitched in his bindings. The scientists fell silent for a second, all turning to stare at him in trepidation, but no further movement was forthcoming. After several minutes, they resumed their previous tasks.
Schuldig jabbed his hand between the ribs of his fellow student, watching him double over with satisfaction. As he fell the gun he'd been holding slipped from his grip, to be caught in mid air by the smirking German.
Schuldig raised the gun to eye level, ignoring the groaning clairvoyant. It was cheap, and foreign, and almost certainly illegal. It was also slim and light, and fit into his pocket without changing the line of his jacket.
He cocked his head to one side and looked around at his three attackers. He remembered now why he rarely slept in the room assigned to him. He kicked the clairvoyant in the head, slamming him against the wall and shattering his skull. Something foul oozed from the mess as his body went into spasms. Another student was slumped at his feet, black and crispy. Schuldig couldn't remember what his talent was, but he'd made a good shield against the third room mate.
The pyrokinetic hauled himself to his feet, moving away from Schuldig as he did so. Schuldig let him. After all, no matter how crap the gun, a bare foot shouldn't make much difference.
The pyro raised both hands as a sign of surrender, though with someone of his talent it could just as easily be the beginnings of an attack. Schuldig reached out, and confirmed his first impression was correct, for the moment.
"Congratulations," the young man said in English, though his accent was different from any Schuldig had heard so far.
"Danke," Schuldig sneered, using his own tongue out of petty spite.
"You do know, don't you, that you're far from safe?" The pyro said, half collapsed against the wall. "These games don't work against us phys students."
"What are you going to do, flambé me?" Schuldig laughed. "You'll be dead before I'm even lightly crispy."
"You're never been badly burnt, have you?" The pale young man shook his head, singed hair swaying in front of his eyes. "It was a pre-emptive strike. We won't be the only ones. After you killed DuBois's son, people have come to realise no one is sacred. You ought to have been killed by the triumvirate, but you're still here. So people are taking things into their own hands."
Schuldig struggled for a name, and came up with a breakfast cereal.
"Look, Bran, you tried, you failed, now I get to kill you all," Schuldig explained.
"You mispronounced my name."
"Do I look like someone who cares?"
"Killing us is a waste of resources."
Schuldig rolled his eyes. "You sound like Crawford."
"Crawford is a clever man."
Schuldig laughed. "Can't argue with that. So, Bran," he mispronounced, "what can you offer me?"
"Fire."
Schuldig tensed, expecting an attack. None was forthcoming. Nor was an explanation.
"Don't need any, thanks. Go find some Stone Age reject."
"It's always good to have reinforcements. Your powers are mental. Mine are physical. For a start, I can guarantee this will never happen to you again."
"That's a shame," Schuldig said. "I kind of enjoyed it. I discovered recently that, well, I kind of enjoy killing." He grinned ferociously and shot Bran. Bran's eyes widened and he sank to the floor, flames springing up around him.
Schuldig thought he'd been kind. Bran would probably survive long enough for a healer to find him.