FicWad

The way to Tokyo, to home, was convoluted enough for Nagi to stop caring about how they were getting there after the first three hours.

A car ride, a plane ride, and a longer car ride later they were pulling up in front of an office building. The car was black with heavily tinted windows. It was, apparently, all important to see but not be seen.

Nagi rather liked that idea.

He wasn't meant to be seen.

He didn't want to be.

The building was much the same as the car. It was a box of shiny, black, nearly opaque glass that reflected the pale blue sky and a few scant clouds. The inside of the building was gray and sterile. It was lit by golden toned florescent lights in a failed attempt to add warmth.

They went straight to the elevator without talking to the receptionist and into the elevator that played a Muzak version of "Moon River" that they were made to suffer through for seven floors. Once at the eighth floor, Crawford walked down a seemingly endless hallway as Nagi followed. Crawford hadn't spoken to him since they'd left the school and hadn't looked at him since they'd taken their second car ride.

It was starting to wear, however mildly, on Nagi's nerves.

They stopped abruptly at a door that looked the same as all the others' they'd passed. It was wooden, polished and utilitarian. Amazing the things he remembered. Insignificant details that seemed to thrum with hidden meaning. Utilitarian, a tool, he was a tool to be utilized.

Opening the door revealed a conference room and his new . . . teammates.

In a chair in the corner farthest away from the door, in the right corner there sat a man with silver-gray hair. He was bent over in his chair, peering at Nagi and Crawford from underneath is eyelashes. He was also wearing a straightjacket. Nagi raised one eyebrow slightly and the left side of his mouth lifted slightly before going blank again.

About three feet from Nagi sat the other man. He was dramatically different by comparison, but just as volatile looking. He was tall. Not Japanese, but then neither was anyone else in that room besides Nagi. Bright orange hair restrained by a headband. And he dressed... odd.

"This is Schuldig and Farfarello," he heard Crawford say.