Rheotaxis chapter 1 DVD commentary part 2
Nov. 15th, 2015 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
somethingdarkerHe let those thoughts chase around in his head for a while, obscuring his real worries. Damn, I wish I had a cigarette... Just one damn cigarette. That's all I ask. I think better when I'm smoking. Something to play with and watch while my thoughts slip into new patterns. An odor that doesn't remind me that I'm screwed. Not my sweat. Not antiseptic. Not this damn plastic. He closed his eyes. Whatever's coming will come…
Being without cigarettes is the nagging little (well, actually not all that little. He just knows that it ought to seem smaller than everything else) thing that Yohji can't ignore at all. I kept going back through this and trying to make sure that I kept bringing it up over and over.
He awoke some indeterminate time later, grateful to be roused by pressure in his bladder. His dreams had been unpleasant. Disembodied hands grasping at me, holding me down. Screaming... I recognized the voice, but... My own wire, wrapped around me... All in Technicolor. He shook his head to dispel the images as he got up to deal with the physical problem. He drank more water. I ought to be hungry, but my stomach's still quiet. Does that mean it's given up protesting? He returned to his spot opposite the door and lay down. If I'm going to sleep, I might as well do it right.
I decided to have Yohji dream the small fragments that he might actually remember about getting kidnapped. Since he was drugged, there's nothing that he consciously recalls, but he still registered some of it. Possibly because Ken got a gas mask on him and he started to come around. Possibly just because that's how the drug affected him. I tried to make the impressions as surreal as I could.
If he dreamed again, he didn't remember it afterward except as a sense of wrongness, but he woke to find himself sprawled several feet from the wall. Damn! I only move like that when I start fighting in my sleep. Least this time I didn't have anybody sleeping next to me. He got up, brushed his hair, drank more water, then showered. He forced himself to sing as he rubbed soap over his body. Everything I do's on camera; might as well give 'em a show. As he washed, he discovered to his surprise that the bruises on his arms had disappeared entirely. I thought they were worse than that... How long was I asleep? Was I hallucinating or were they part of one of my dreams? They should have stuck around for days before they faded. I can't possibly have been asleep that long!
And this is the first real hint about the nanites. Once I decided they existed, I wanted to make sure I had clues about them from the start. That was partly so that readers wouldn't feel like I was pulling something out of thin air and partly so that Yohji would have evidence suggesting that Nagi might be telling him the truth.
In response to an almost unbearable craving for a smoke, he replaced the nicotine patch he was wearing. I thought these damn things were supposed to make this easier! He sighed. It's just not the same. I want a cigarette, to hold it, to bring it to my lips and inhale, to... At least, it'd be something to do. He paced a bit and debated working out. I have the energy, and I want-- no-- need to use it. But they still haven't fed me... My energy'll last longer if I hoard it. Oh, fuck it. They can wait me out regardless. I might as well have some fun.
Yohji's starting to seriously weigh options and make decisions here. He knows that he's got almost no control of the situation and that he needs, in order to preserve his own sanity, to give himself some illusion of control.
He started with stretches, working the kinks out of his muscles, then moved on to more complicated and athletic movements. It's not the same without a partner, without my wire, but… He kept at it and managed to work up a sweat. Some things felt odd without any clothing, but gradually, he lost himself in the routine, forgetting where he was and who might be watching.
Yohji's often portrayed as lazy or as physically not very strong or fit. I don't see either. I can see him acting lazy and playing games to get out of work that bores him, but that's not quite the same thing. Also, while a garrote may not be a weapon that requires great strength, the manner in which he uses his wire suggest strength, agility and speed. He would have any of those without fairly constant work.
Some time later, he showered again. There seems to be plenty of hot water, so there's no point staying sweaty. He still hadn't come up with any answers to the question of how he'd ended up in this cell. The last thing I remember is stumbling to bed after that show, a bit of bsing with the guys and a few too many beers. Anyone pulling me out of there'd have to get past the security system, the rest of the team and my vigilance. It's almost easier to think I've forgotten the mission that went wrong.
A little more about the night of the kidnapping... It has to be something that he keeps coming back to because he doesn't have any other clues. He knows that something went dreadfully wrong, and he's hoping he'll remember something more.
Almost.
And he's afraid that he's forgotten something important. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the idea that he can't trust his own mind is not one he's prepared to face. He knows his body won't hold up for very long, so his mind is his best weapon.
He settled himself opposite the door with his back to the wall again. After a few moments, he found himself fidgeting with his hands, trying to find something to do with them. Damn, I need a cigarette!
Yohji knows that any prisoner can be broken and that there's not a lot he can do in this situation, but he's not prepared to surrender. Every moment, every advantage that comes his way might be the one that matters.
Having no better idea, he started building himself the mental image of a cigarette. Pull the pack from a pocket and tap one cylinder out. Put the pack on the floor next to me and pick up the lighter. He closed his eyes to better preserve the tactile illusion. Light the cigarette. He could almost feel the slight flare of heat as the tobacco caught. Set the lighter down. He lifted his hand to his lips and took a drag.
I see Yohji as having a vivid imagination. In this situation, that's both a blessing and a curse. He really does have himself half convinced that he's smoking.
No smoke in my lungs, no rush from the nicotine. Well, I can live with that. I have to. He went through the motions of an introspective smoke before finally flicking away the imaginary butt and reaching for the pack to extract another.
I've never been a smoker. In fact, I'm asthmatic to smoke. I was a bit afraid that I'd lose track of the addiction simply because it wasn't something that mattered to me.
He'd gone through half a pack when he heard the first sound. It was just the merest click from the door or perhaps from behind it. He focused his attention fully on the door but forced himself to remain visibly relaxed. Unless I'm rescued or they make a mistake, I can't win this war, but I can show well in a skirmish or two. It's all I've got. Attitude, it's all about attitude.
And now I'm finally getting to the point where I'd originally thought I'd start the story... It took me quite a while to get here.
As the door opened, swinging outward, he wished more than ever for a real cigarette. It's so much easier to play the attitude with the props to help, and I don't even fucking have clothes.
At this point, I was remembering a bit I read in a book once about what a great prop a cigarette, even an unlit cigarette, is in a conversation. It adds an additional set of gestures. Having experienced the effect with a clipboard and with a cane, I strongly suspect that it's true.
Since that's the point, I might as well not think about it. He flicked imaginary ash from his imaginary cigarette, focusing on the rhythm of the smoke. You're getting nothing from me.
He's trying to psych himself up. Yohji's not stupid, so he knows this is a bad situation. His self-control is a lot better than Kritiker gives him credit for. On some level, he's terrified.
The door revealed a small antechamber, and he felt his hopes flicker a little further. Closed door on the other side. No mechanism for opening it from the inside either. These people are damned paranoid. About the size of an elevator and monitored too. Only way I'm getting out is with help from the outside. Well, or a fucking miracle…
Since Yohji still doesn't know what's become of the rest of Weiss, he still has some hope of a rescue. Otherwise, that realization might well be devastating.
He looked at the two men standing just inside the newly opened door. I should be surprised to see them, but it's too fucking much trouble. He nodded once. "Crawford." A drag on his cigarette. "I suppose I should thank you for the patches. An unexpected courtesy." Why the hell couldn't they stay gone? My life was just fine without Schwarz, thank you.
I'm assuming that Weiss and Schwarz have not run into each other since the fall of Estet. Yohji's not particularly surprised that they're alive since there was no solid evidence that they were dead, but after all this time, they kind of come at him from left field.
The other man stopped a few feet inside the cell and regarded Yohji steadily for a moment. "Balinese." His voice was uninflected.
I wanted to use Schwarz in this because I've found them fascinating in most of the fan fiction I've read. I'm not certain there's enough material in the anime to define the characters fully, and I wanted to play with what I saw and see how I could interpret it.
I don't tend to assume that characters have One True Interpretation. Especially with a series like Weiss Kreuz, there usually several different permutations that are plausible. The challenge lies at least partly in fitting the pieces together so that the characters make sense as a group as well as individually.
Crawford stepped slightly to one side to allow his companion to advance. Naoe's grown. A given, I suppose, at his age. More height, more bulk. How long has it been since I saw him last? No real point thinking about it. The door swung shut once Naoe had cleared the doorway. Even without his powers, he looks like he could hold his own in a fight. What the hell's in that? Yohji tried not to stare at the heavy looking black briefcase Naoe carried.
I wanted to write an older Nagi, to see who he might turn out to be. I found most interpretations of him in fan fics... in adequate. Youth is not the same as simplicity.
Yohji leaned his head back against the wall. Naoe didn't seem to be exerting himself yet, but... I'm sure it's just a matter of time, and I sure as hell don't want far to go when I end up pressed to the wall. "Naoe," Yohji said, letting his cigarette hand fall to his knee.
I also felt that using Nagi might give me more room for ambiguities.
Naoe nodded an acknowledgment, but Yohji judged that the boy had most of his attention on Crawford. Well, that's where I'd put my attention if I were him. But he looks... anxious. What-- No. I don't even want to think about it.
I didn't want this story to be only about the destruction of one character; I wanted to have the possibility, at least, that that destruction might not occur.
Yohji let his eyes wander a little, trying to give the impression of nonchalance. I don't think I'm fooling anybody. Almost reflexively, he ground out his imaginary cigarette.
Remember that I started this as an exercise in writing smut... I wasn't setting out to write a tragedy or deathfic.
He wasn't at all surprised to feel the sudden pressure of Naoe's power pushing him against the wall. An invisible band wrapped his throat, just tight enough that an effort to move would choke him. His instinct was to rip at the obstruction or at least to lower his chin to try to get it between the pressure and his vulnerable throat. Like hell I will!
Yohji has a certain amount of pride that's essential to the integrity of his personality. At times, holding on to it seems to run counter to survival, but there are degrees of survival.
Instead, he raised his chin a little higher and looked directly at Naoe. Yohji told himself that his bravado bought him a victory when their eyes met and Naoe looked away. Yohji's eyes shifted back to meet Crawford's. Yohji suppressed the urge to flinch, to snarl, to babble, and kept his face blank. I won't give you that.
I've tried to present a view of Crawford that fits with what I saw in the anime without losing the things I've liked in versions of him in fics. What you have to understand is that I came to WK fandom pretty much from the fan fic side.
Crawford smiled, and Yohji felt ice in his guts. "Don't worry too much, Balinese. We're not here to question you."
I'd seen fansubs of the first four episodes a year or so before I read my first WK fic. I wasn't hugely impressed and felt no great urge to try to find the rest of the series.
Yohji raised an eyebrow and wondered how long he'd be able to keep up the façade once they really started in. He very deliberately kept both his mind and his eyes from touching on the briefcase.
My fannish interest at that time was focused in other areas. If I'm recalling correctly, I was reading Pretender fics then. I'd gone looking for an episode guide to the series and had found a few fic sites. One of them was huge (and no longer exists, sadly).
Cool amusement colored Crawford's voice. "We're not here to torture you, either. There's nothing you have that we haven't already gotten elsewhere."
For a variety of reasons, I was in need of large quantities of reading material that neither cost me money nor required that I leave the house. The archive of Pretender stories fit my needs, and I at least tried to read every story in it that was in English.
Yohji's right hand clenched till his nails dug into his flesh, but he gave no other response.
Some of it was abysmal and some excellent, but eventually I ran through all of it and had to look elsewhere for reading material. That's when I started wandering.
The first WK fic that I read that really sticks in my head was Miko no da's Sinners and Saints series. It confused me utterly because I recognized none of the characters and left me curious as to what bits were canon. (I think I went to her site looking either for Kenshin fics or for Fushigi Yugi fics. I can't recall at this point.)
Crawford walked a little further into the room, moving at a slight angle and stopping far enough from Naoe that Yohji could no longer quite track them both at once. "Kritiker's so eager to get into bed with our new employer that they gave us their files and Weiss without blinking." Crawford paused and pushed his glasses up even though, as far as Yohji could tell, they hadn't slipped at all.
In order to make the story work, I had to make Kritiker darker, more ruthless. I didn't want to change the underlying mission, though, because Weiss as I was starting to see them would have turned on an organization that was too different from its official claims.
No! Yohji refused to let his reaction show on his face, but he knew he'd tensed for just a second. But it's possible... Naoe believes it. Crawford's too careful with his body language. I can’t—
At this point, Yohji has no clue what Kritiker got out of it. I've always assumed that they did extremely well-- Getting advanced technology, logistical support, additional agents for large missions.
"Of course, I have the impression that certain people thought that Weiss might be getting ideas. A very dangerous thing, killers who think."
A few months or years down the road, however, Kritiker will find that it really gave up its independence. The Taisken will own it.
Well, I suppose I shouldn't expect Crawford to follow my script. Yohji let that flicker of amusement slip through his mask and nursed it into a smile. "You want something. You'd let me rot otherwise." Assuming you didn't just put a bullet through my skull…
I'm coming more and more to the conclusion that Crawford doesn't do anything for just one reason. I think he can't. But at this point, especially in the first draft, I had no idea what he really wanted. I knew there had to be something under the surface, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was.
Crawford paced forward. "I always want something, Balinese. Always." He stopped a few steps from where Yohji sat and reached a hand in Naoe's direction. The briefcase floated into Crawford's grasp, and he set it down on the floor. Yohji continued to keep his eyes on Crawford's face. "You are, all of Weiss is, a valuable commodity."
What Crawford knows, what Crawford wants, those have become increasingly important to what I think of as the background plot, the big story that involves everybody and that gave me an excuse for putting Yohji and Nagi in the same place.
No. "No," Yohji said, his voice sounding oddly hollow even to himself. "I won't kill for you. No."
I would say that all of Weiss have the ability to function as much more than just killers, but Yohji hasn't thought of himself in any other terms in a long time.
Crawford went down on one knee and laid the briefcase flat in front of him. "Yes, you will. Oh, not now. Not for quite some time. But it will happen. And once it does, you'll wonder what the fuss was about." He popped the catch and opened the briefcase. He looked directly at Yohji and smiled. "Today's... proposition... is simpler."
I was trying to approach writing something that I wasn't sure I could do properly-- a sex scene-- by framing it with something that I knew I could write well-- a confrontation and power struggle.
Yohji's mind seemed to be trying to follow a dozen different lines of thought. So damn sure... A vision? What's in the briefcase? I don't want to know. If he wanted information wouldn't he have brought Schuldig? At least the psycho's not here. What does he want? Playing with me... Sadistic bastard.
I actually find Crawford's careful courtesy in this section fairly disturbing. He's not a nice man, and nothing he's saying or doing is really meant to be kind. Of course, I also see him as the one responsible for what Nagi does to Yohji. This is not by way of excusing Nagi's actions, though-- He chooses to follow orders.
Crawford kept the upper half of the briefcase perpendicular to the floor, very deliberately obscuring Yohji's view of what lay within. "And it is a proposition. You're free to say no. If you do, we'll move on to one of the others, but I think… You're better suited to this than Bombay or Abyssinian, and Siberian is currently indisposed."
Yohji's really the only member of Weiss with a prayer of surviving what Crawford's proposing. That's not why Crawford picked him, of course, nor why I did. But the factors that make Yohji well suited to offer sex education-- comfort with his sexuality and body and broad experience-- also give him tools for coping with being raped.
Indisposed? Ken! Yohji forced his expression to remain neutral. What the hell have they done to Ken? God, Ken, can't you think things through? Tell me you didn't do anything stupid.
I thought that somebody had to have seen Kritiker coming. Ken seemed like a good candidate because I didn't picture him running, not when that would mean leaving his team behind.
Crawford cocked his head a little to one side, and Yohji thought the American's amusement increased. "Basically, we've been teaching Nagi a few things he needs to know to get ahead in the world, and we've gone as far as we can with the books. It's time for the lab course."
Crawford's having too much fun with this, deliberately drawing it out. As I said earlier, he's not a nice man.
Yohji let his eyes stray to Naoe and was surprised to see that the boy looked embarrassed. What are they going to have him do to me?
It was important to me that Nagi not be entirely comfortable with the situation. Anything else makes him an utter monster, and I wanted to be able to have some sympathy for him, just in case I ever wrote anything from his point of view. Besides, I prefer more complex characters. If Nagi weren't uncomfortable, it would mean that he'd turned into a nice little automaton. Very dull.
"Nagi's been studying human sexuality and its uses as a tool in dealing with people. He's worked with a couple of women we… acquired, and he has had experience as uke--"
When I started writing, I wasn't looking beyond this. After all, whatever Crawford said was just an excuse for me to write the damn sex scene, right?
Naoe must have seen Yohji's assumption on his face. He interrupted his commander, "Not Schwarz. Before… Just not Schwarz."
I personally think that Schwarz could not function as a team if any member were abusing any of the others. Possibly, a huge, scary Estet might make the team work anyway even if Crawford were abusive, but... To pull off a rebellion, Crawford needed to be able to trust his people.
Besides, would you abuse somebody who might, if he got upset, bring down the building you were standing in?
"Pedophilia is one of the perversions our current employer frowns on," Crawford said dryly. "If any of us had indulged in that particular… unpleasantness, Nagi'd be the only surviving member of Schwarz."
I wanted to establish here that the Taisken do have standards.
"No," Naoe responded. "You'd still be alive. You'd just wish you weren't." He met Yohji's eyes. "You weren't my first choice for this, but…" He shrugged. "A body's a body."
And that Schwarz is wary of pissing off the High Lord. Of course, I don't give names until later-- I hadn't made them up at this point (and I kept hoping I'd come up with something cooler than "High Lord," but it never happened).
This is just wrong on so many levels. Yohji opened his mouth to protest then realized he had nothing to say. He blinked. "How is this a choice?" The words slipped out before he could stop them. Balinese, the man Kritiker thinks I am, could do this. Can I?
Nagi, at this point, really is indifferent to Yohji, well possibly a little negatively inclined. Nagi's working from the Kritiker files, and the Yohji in those files sounds like someone Nagi'd despise.
Crawford regarded him steadily and closed the briefcase. "If you say no, Nagi and I leave."
Nobody in that cell right at that moment really thinks it's a choice.
"If you say no," Naoe said, "it'll be Bombay." His eyes darted sideways at Crawford. "You have skills that might be helpful if you're cooperative; he doesn't." Naoe shrugged. "It'll be Bombay. Siberian's too badly injured, and Abyssinian…"
I'm still not certain if Crawford was bluffing about using Omi. I doubt that the man makes idle threats, but Omi becomes less useful as a hostage if Ran and Ken can't protect him.
I never really considered writing this as a Nagi/Omi story. I wanted to try something different, and I was pretty sure that the way I'd have constructed that interaction would bring pissed off fans down on me hard.
Yohji found himself wondering what lay behind Naoe's expression. The boy-- no, young man-- seemed to be working to mask his opinions. "Siberian?" Yohji asked while he tried to keep his mind away from the thought of Omi as sex toy.
Yohji's making an adjustment in his thinking about Nagi here. I suspect that Yohji's image of Nagi has always been rather heavily influenced by watching Nagi with Tot.
"He resisted capture rather strenuously."
A bit of an understatement…
Is that admiration in Crawford's voice? Yohji wasn't sure.
It is, in fact. Though Crawford probably thinks, on a practical level, that Ken should have run.
"He has several broken bones. He'll heal."
Yohji closed his eyes. "What's in it for me?" I’m going to do this. I don't want to do this.
Yohji never could have chosen anything else. At least he has the sense to see what else he can get out of it.
"What do you want?" Crawford's voice was gentle. "We won't-- can't-- let you, any of you, go, and I won't give you cigarettes."
I suspect that the Taisken have the resources to prevent cigarette related health problems, but I'm not sure of it yet. If they do, this is a piece of pure nastiness on Crawford's part. Well, it may be that Nagi doesn't like the smell of cigarettes…
Yohji let amusement leak into his words. "There go my first two requests." He opened his eyes. "I want to see them all," he stated. "That's not negotiable." His lips quirked. "I wouldn't object to a few amenities, luxuries like food and bedding. The place is a little bare. Oh, and conditioner. And scented soap." Yes, add a few frivolous items… "A cup."
Yohji meets all of this with some humor. It doesn't mean that he doesn't realize how serious things are, more that he knows he'll start screaming if he doesn't keep mocking. He's also testing here to see how far he can go.
A small noise from Naoe startled Yohji into looking at him. Yohji thought it might have been amusement. He hoped so. A sense of humor might make this bearable. Assuming Crawford's even telling the truth...
I wanted to establish a common ground for Nagi and Yohji, and their senses of humor seemed like reasonable place to start.
Crawford cleared his throat. "As it happens, I anticipated your request to see the others."
Yeah, Crawford, we're all of us predictable that way.
I figured that anybody could have predicted this one.
"If you'll settle for a remote viewing, we can deal with it now."
Yohji looked at the American and could almost hear the subtext. Settle or do without. He won't give me more. "If that's all I can get."
Though he's not saying it, Yohji's looking for proof that Crawford really does have the others. Not that Yohji entirely doubts it, but he's still hoping, and he desperately needs to know.
Crawford nodded and let the upper half of the briefcase fall to the floor. He pulled out a brown box about the size of a backgammon set. He put it on the floor and pushed it toward Yohji. "Nagi," Crawford said in a voice of command.
In a way, I hated that briefcase. I had to remember where it was all the time and remember to have the characters deal with it. It was an absolutely necessary prop, though.
Yohji felt the pressure on his body release and reached for the box. It had a flat screen and a touchpad. The touchpad had plastic labels stuck on. He didn't recognize the underlying symbols.
I meant those symbols as a fairly concrete clue that we're dealing with aliens. Yohji's not stupid, and I think he'd be likely to recognize most styles of Earth writing. He's not thinking all that clearly, so the unfamiliarity isn't registering strongly right now. I suspect, though, that he wonders about it later when he's alone.
Being without cigarettes is the nagging little (well, actually not all that little. He just knows that it ought to seem smaller than everything else) thing that Yohji can't ignore at all. I kept going back through this and trying to make sure that I kept bringing it up over and over.
He awoke some indeterminate time later, grateful to be roused by pressure in his bladder. His dreams had been unpleasant. Disembodied hands grasping at me, holding me down. Screaming... I recognized the voice, but... My own wire, wrapped around me... All in Technicolor. He shook his head to dispel the images as he got up to deal with the physical problem. He drank more water. I ought to be hungry, but my stomach's still quiet. Does that mean it's given up protesting? He returned to his spot opposite the door and lay down. If I'm going to sleep, I might as well do it right.
I decided to have Yohji dream the small fragments that he might actually remember about getting kidnapped. Since he was drugged, there's nothing that he consciously recalls, but he still registered some of it. Possibly because Ken got a gas mask on him and he started to come around. Possibly just because that's how the drug affected him. I tried to make the impressions as surreal as I could.
If he dreamed again, he didn't remember it afterward except as a sense of wrongness, but he woke to find himself sprawled several feet from the wall. Damn! I only move like that when I start fighting in my sleep. Least this time I didn't have anybody sleeping next to me. He got up, brushed his hair, drank more water, then showered. He forced himself to sing as he rubbed soap over his body. Everything I do's on camera; might as well give 'em a show. As he washed, he discovered to his surprise that the bruises on his arms had disappeared entirely. I thought they were worse than that... How long was I asleep? Was I hallucinating or were they part of one of my dreams? They should have stuck around for days before they faded. I can't possibly have been asleep that long!
And this is the first real hint about the nanites. Once I decided they existed, I wanted to make sure I had clues about them from the start. That was partly so that readers wouldn't feel like I was pulling something out of thin air and partly so that Yohji would have evidence suggesting that Nagi might be telling him the truth.
In response to an almost unbearable craving for a smoke, he replaced the nicotine patch he was wearing. I thought these damn things were supposed to make this easier! He sighed. It's just not the same. I want a cigarette, to hold it, to bring it to my lips and inhale, to... At least, it'd be something to do. He paced a bit and debated working out. I have the energy, and I want-- no-- need to use it. But they still haven't fed me... My energy'll last longer if I hoard it. Oh, fuck it. They can wait me out regardless. I might as well have some fun.
Yohji's starting to seriously weigh options and make decisions here. He knows that he's got almost no control of the situation and that he needs, in order to preserve his own sanity, to give himself some illusion of control.
He started with stretches, working the kinks out of his muscles, then moved on to more complicated and athletic movements. It's not the same without a partner, without my wire, but… He kept at it and managed to work up a sweat. Some things felt odd without any clothing, but gradually, he lost himself in the routine, forgetting where he was and who might be watching.
Yohji's often portrayed as lazy or as physically not very strong or fit. I don't see either. I can see him acting lazy and playing games to get out of work that bores him, but that's not quite the same thing. Also, while a garrote may not be a weapon that requires great strength, the manner in which he uses his wire suggest strength, agility and speed. He would have any of those without fairly constant work.
Some time later, he showered again. There seems to be plenty of hot water, so there's no point staying sweaty. He still hadn't come up with any answers to the question of how he'd ended up in this cell. The last thing I remember is stumbling to bed after that show, a bit of bsing with the guys and a few too many beers. Anyone pulling me out of there'd have to get past the security system, the rest of the team and my vigilance. It's almost easier to think I've forgotten the mission that went wrong.
A little more about the night of the kidnapping... It has to be something that he keeps coming back to because he doesn't have any other clues. He knows that something went dreadfully wrong, and he's hoping he'll remember something more.
Almost.
And he's afraid that he's forgotten something important. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the idea that he can't trust his own mind is not one he's prepared to face. He knows his body won't hold up for very long, so his mind is his best weapon.
He settled himself opposite the door with his back to the wall again. After a few moments, he found himself fidgeting with his hands, trying to find something to do with them. Damn, I need a cigarette!
Yohji knows that any prisoner can be broken and that there's not a lot he can do in this situation, but he's not prepared to surrender. Every moment, every advantage that comes his way might be the one that matters.
Having no better idea, he started building himself the mental image of a cigarette. Pull the pack from a pocket and tap one cylinder out. Put the pack on the floor next to me and pick up the lighter. He closed his eyes to better preserve the tactile illusion. Light the cigarette. He could almost feel the slight flare of heat as the tobacco caught. Set the lighter down. He lifted his hand to his lips and took a drag.
I see Yohji as having a vivid imagination. In this situation, that's both a blessing and a curse. He really does have himself half convinced that he's smoking.
No smoke in my lungs, no rush from the nicotine. Well, I can live with that. I have to. He went through the motions of an introspective smoke before finally flicking away the imaginary butt and reaching for the pack to extract another.
I've never been a smoker. In fact, I'm asthmatic to smoke. I was a bit afraid that I'd lose track of the addiction simply because it wasn't something that mattered to me.
He'd gone through half a pack when he heard the first sound. It was just the merest click from the door or perhaps from behind it. He focused his attention fully on the door but forced himself to remain visibly relaxed. Unless I'm rescued or they make a mistake, I can't win this war, but I can show well in a skirmish or two. It's all I've got. Attitude, it's all about attitude.
And now I'm finally getting to the point where I'd originally thought I'd start the story... It took me quite a while to get here.
As the door opened, swinging outward, he wished more than ever for a real cigarette. It's so much easier to play the attitude with the props to help, and I don't even fucking have clothes.
At this point, I was remembering a bit I read in a book once about what a great prop a cigarette, even an unlit cigarette, is in a conversation. It adds an additional set of gestures. Having experienced the effect with a clipboard and with a cane, I strongly suspect that it's true.
Since that's the point, I might as well not think about it. He flicked imaginary ash from his imaginary cigarette, focusing on the rhythm of the smoke. You're getting nothing from me.
He's trying to psych himself up. Yohji's not stupid, so he knows this is a bad situation. His self-control is a lot better than Kritiker gives him credit for. On some level, he's terrified.
The door revealed a small antechamber, and he felt his hopes flicker a little further. Closed door on the other side. No mechanism for opening it from the inside either. These people are damned paranoid. About the size of an elevator and monitored too. Only way I'm getting out is with help from the outside. Well, or a fucking miracle…
Since Yohji still doesn't know what's become of the rest of Weiss, he still has some hope of a rescue. Otherwise, that realization might well be devastating.
He looked at the two men standing just inside the newly opened door. I should be surprised to see them, but it's too fucking much trouble. He nodded once. "Crawford." A drag on his cigarette. "I suppose I should thank you for the patches. An unexpected courtesy." Why the hell couldn't they stay gone? My life was just fine without Schwarz, thank you.
I'm assuming that Weiss and Schwarz have not run into each other since the fall of Estet. Yohji's not particularly surprised that they're alive since there was no solid evidence that they were dead, but after all this time, they kind of come at him from left field.
The other man stopped a few feet inside the cell and regarded Yohji steadily for a moment. "Balinese." His voice was uninflected.
I wanted to use Schwarz in this because I've found them fascinating in most of the fan fiction I've read. I'm not certain there's enough material in the anime to define the characters fully, and I wanted to play with what I saw and see how I could interpret it.
I don't tend to assume that characters have One True Interpretation. Especially with a series like Weiss Kreuz, there usually several different permutations that are plausible. The challenge lies at least partly in fitting the pieces together so that the characters make sense as a group as well as individually.
Crawford stepped slightly to one side to allow his companion to advance. Naoe's grown. A given, I suppose, at his age. More height, more bulk. How long has it been since I saw him last? No real point thinking about it. The door swung shut once Naoe had cleared the doorway. Even without his powers, he looks like he could hold his own in a fight. What the hell's in that? Yohji tried not to stare at the heavy looking black briefcase Naoe carried.
I wanted to write an older Nagi, to see who he might turn out to be. I found most interpretations of him in fan fics... in adequate. Youth is not the same as simplicity.
Yohji leaned his head back against the wall. Naoe didn't seem to be exerting himself yet, but... I'm sure it's just a matter of time, and I sure as hell don't want far to go when I end up pressed to the wall. "Naoe," Yohji said, letting his cigarette hand fall to his knee.
I also felt that using Nagi might give me more room for ambiguities.
Naoe nodded an acknowledgment, but Yohji judged that the boy had most of his attention on Crawford. Well, that's where I'd put my attention if I were him. But he looks... anxious. What-- No. I don't even want to think about it.
I didn't want this story to be only about the destruction of one character; I wanted to have the possibility, at least, that that destruction might not occur.
Yohji let his eyes wander a little, trying to give the impression of nonchalance. I don't think I'm fooling anybody. Almost reflexively, he ground out his imaginary cigarette.
Remember that I started this as an exercise in writing smut... I wasn't setting out to write a tragedy or deathfic.
He wasn't at all surprised to feel the sudden pressure of Naoe's power pushing him against the wall. An invisible band wrapped his throat, just tight enough that an effort to move would choke him. His instinct was to rip at the obstruction or at least to lower his chin to try to get it between the pressure and his vulnerable throat. Like hell I will!
Yohji has a certain amount of pride that's essential to the integrity of his personality. At times, holding on to it seems to run counter to survival, but there are degrees of survival.
Instead, he raised his chin a little higher and looked directly at Naoe. Yohji told himself that his bravado bought him a victory when their eyes met and Naoe looked away. Yohji's eyes shifted back to meet Crawford's. Yohji suppressed the urge to flinch, to snarl, to babble, and kept his face blank. I won't give you that.
I've tried to present a view of Crawford that fits with what I saw in the anime without losing the things I've liked in versions of him in fics. What you have to understand is that I came to WK fandom pretty much from the fan fic side.
Crawford smiled, and Yohji felt ice in his guts. "Don't worry too much, Balinese. We're not here to question you."
I'd seen fansubs of the first four episodes a year or so before I read my first WK fic. I wasn't hugely impressed and felt no great urge to try to find the rest of the series.
Yohji raised an eyebrow and wondered how long he'd be able to keep up the façade once they really started in. He very deliberately kept both his mind and his eyes from touching on the briefcase.
My fannish interest at that time was focused in other areas. If I'm recalling correctly, I was reading Pretender fics then. I'd gone looking for an episode guide to the series and had found a few fic sites. One of them was huge (and no longer exists, sadly).
Cool amusement colored Crawford's voice. "We're not here to torture you, either. There's nothing you have that we haven't already gotten elsewhere."
For a variety of reasons, I was in need of large quantities of reading material that neither cost me money nor required that I leave the house. The archive of Pretender stories fit my needs, and I at least tried to read every story in it that was in English.
Yohji's right hand clenched till his nails dug into his flesh, but he gave no other response.
Some of it was abysmal and some excellent, but eventually I ran through all of it and had to look elsewhere for reading material. That's when I started wandering.
The first WK fic that I read that really sticks in my head was Miko no da's Sinners and Saints series. It confused me utterly because I recognized none of the characters and left me curious as to what bits were canon. (I think I went to her site looking either for Kenshin fics or for Fushigi Yugi fics. I can't recall at this point.)
Crawford walked a little further into the room, moving at a slight angle and stopping far enough from Naoe that Yohji could no longer quite track them both at once. "Kritiker's so eager to get into bed with our new employer that they gave us their files and Weiss without blinking." Crawford paused and pushed his glasses up even though, as far as Yohji could tell, they hadn't slipped at all.
In order to make the story work, I had to make Kritiker darker, more ruthless. I didn't want to change the underlying mission, though, because Weiss as I was starting to see them would have turned on an organization that was too different from its official claims.
No! Yohji refused to let his reaction show on his face, but he knew he'd tensed for just a second. But it's possible... Naoe believes it. Crawford's too careful with his body language. I can’t—
At this point, Yohji has no clue what Kritiker got out of it. I've always assumed that they did extremely well-- Getting advanced technology, logistical support, additional agents for large missions.
"Of course, I have the impression that certain people thought that Weiss might be getting ideas. A very dangerous thing, killers who think."
A few months or years down the road, however, Kritiker will find that it really gave up its independence. The Taisken will own it.
Well, I suppose I shouldn't expect Crawford to follow my script. Yohji let that flicker of amusement slip through his mask and nursed it into a smile. "You want something. You'd let me rot otherwise." Assuming you didn't just put a bullet through my skull…
I'm coming more and more to the conclusion that Crawford doesn't do anything for just one reason. I think he can't. But at this point, especially in the first draft, I had no idea what he really wanted. I knew there had to be something under the surface, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was.
Crawford paced forward. "I always want something, Balinese. Always." He stopped a few steps from where Yohji sat and reached a hand in Naoe's direction. The briefcase floated into Crawford's grasp, and he set it down on the floor. Yohji continued to keep his eyes on Crawford's face. "You are, all of Weiss is, a valuable commodity."
What Crawford knows, what Crawford wants, those have become increasingly important to what I think of as the background plot, the big story that involves everybody and that gave me an excuse for putting Yohji and Nagi in the same place.
No. "No," Yohji said, his voice sounding oddly hollow even to himself. "I won't kill for you. No."
I would say that all of Weiss have the ability to function as much more than just killers, but Yohji hasn't thought of himself in any other terms in a long time.
Crawford went down on one knee and laid the briefcase flat in front of him. "Yes, you will. Oh, not now. Not for quite some time. But it will happen. And once it does, you'll wonder what the fuss was about." He popped the catch and opened the briefcase. He looked directly at Yohji and smiled. "Today's... proposition... is simpler."
I was trying to approach writing something that I wasn't sure I could do properly-- a sex scene-- by framing it with something that I knew I could write well-- a confrontation and power struggle.
Yohji's mind seemed to be trying to follow a dozen different lines of thought. So damn sure... A vision? What's in the briefcase? I don't want to know. If he wanted information wouldn't he have brought Schuldig? At least the psycho's not here. What does he want? Playing with me... Sadistic bastard.
I actually find Crawford's careful courtesy in this section fairly disturbing. He's not a nice man, and nothing he's saying or doing is really meant to be kind. Of course, I also see him as the one responsible for what Nagi does to Yohji. This is not by way of excusing Nagi's actions, though-- He chooses to follow orders.
Crawford kept the upper half of the briefcase perpendicular to the floor, very deliberately obscuring Yohji's view of what lay within. "And it is a proposition. You're free to say no. If you do, we'll move on to one of the others, but I think… You're better suited to this than Bombay or Abyssinian, and Siberian is currently indisposed."
Yohji's really the only member of Weiss with a prayer of surviving what Crawford's proposing. That's not why Crawford picked him, of course, nor why I did. But the factors that make Yohji well suited to offer sex education-- comfort with his sexuality and body and broad experience-- also give him tools for coping with being raped.
Indisposed? Ken! Yohji forced his expression to remain neutral. What the hell have they done to Ken? God, Ken, can't you think things through? Tell me you didn't do anything stupid.
I thought that somebody had to have seen Kritiker coming. Ken seemed like a good candidate because I didn't picture him running, not when that would mean leaving his team behind.
Crawford cocked his head a little to one side, and Yohji thought the American's amusement increased. "Basically, we've been teaching Nagi a few things he needs to know to get ahead in the world, and we've gone as far as we can with the books. It's time for the lab course."
Crawford's having too much fun with this, deliberately drawing it out. As I said earlier, he's not a nice man.
Yohji let his eyes stray to Naoe and was surprised to see that the boy looked embarrassed. What are they going to have him do to me?
It was important to me that Nagi not be entirely comfortable with the situation. Anything else makes him an utter monster, and I wanted to be able to have some sympathy for him, just in case I ever wrote anything from his point of view. Besides, I prefer more complex characters. If Nagi weren't uncomfortable, it would mean that he'd turned into a nice little automaton. Very dull.
"Nagi's been studying human sexuality and its uses as a tool in dealing with people. He's worked with a couple of women we… acquired, and he has had experience as uke--"
When I started writing, I wasn't looking beyond this. After all, whatever Crawford said was just an excuse for me to write the damn sex scene, right?
Naoe must have seen Yohji's assumption on his face. He interrupted his commander, "Not Schwarz. Before… Just not Schwarz."
I personally think that Schwarz could not function as a team if any member were abusing any of the others. Possibly, a huge, scary Estet might make the team work anyway even if Crawford were abusive, but... To pull off a rebellion, Crawford needed to be able to trust his people.
Besides, would you abuse somebody who might, if he got upset, bring down the building you were standing in?
"Pedophilia is one of the perversions our current employer frowns on," Crawford said dryly. "If any of us had indulged in that particular… unpleasantness, Nagi'd be the only surviving member of Schwarz."
I wanted to establish here that the Taisken do have standards.
"No," Naoe responded. "You'd still be alive. You'd just wish you weren't." He met Yohji's eyes. "You weren't my first choice for this, but…" He shrugged. "A body's a body."
And that Schwarz is wary of pissing off the High Lord. Of course, I don't give names until later-- I hadn't made them up at this point (and I kept hoping I'd come up with something cooler than "High Lord," but it never happened).
This is just wrong on so many levels. Yohji opened his mouth to protest then realized he had nothing to say. He blinked. "How is this a choice?" The words slipped out before he could stop them. Balinese, the man Kritiker thinks I am, could do this. Can I?
Nagi, at this point, really is indifferent to Yohji, well possibly a little negatively inclined. Nagi's working from the Kritiker files, and the Yohji in those files sounds like someone Nagi'd despise.
Crawford regarded him steadily and closed the briefcase. "If you say no, Nagi and I leave."
Nobody in that cell right at that moment really thinks it's a choice.
"If you say no," Naoe said, "it'll be Bombay." His eyes darted sideways at Crawford. "You have skills that might be helpful if you're cooperative; he doesn't." Naoe shrugged. "It'll be Bombay. Siberian's too badly injured, and Abyssinian…"
I'm still not certain if Crawford was bluffing about using Omi. I doubt that the man makes idle threats, but Omi becomes less useful as a hostage if Ran and Ken can't protect him.
I never really considered writing this as a Nagi/Omi story. I wanted to try something different, and I was pretty sure that the way I'd have constructed that interaction would bring pissed off fans down on me hard.
Yohji found himself wondering what lay behind Naoe's expression. The boy-- no, young man-- seemed to be working to mask his opinions. "Siberian?" Yohji asked while he tried to keep his mind away from the thought of Omi as sex toy.
Yohji's making an adjustment in his thinking about Nagi here. I suspect that Yohji's image of Nagi has always been rather heavily influenced by watching Nagi with Tot.
"He resisted capture rather strenuously."
A bit of an understatement…
Is that admiration in Crawford's voice? Yohji wasn't sure.
It is, in fact. Though Crawford probably thinks, on a practical level, that Ken should have run.
"He has several broken bones. He'll heal."
Yohji closed his eyes. "What's in it for me?" I’m going to do this. I don't want to do this.
Yohji never could have chosen anything else. At least he has the sense to see what else he can get out of it.
"What do you want?" Crawford's voice was gentle. "We won't-- can't-- let you, any of you, go, and I won't give you cigarettes."
I suspect that the Taisken have the resources to prevent cigarette related health problems, but I'm not sure of it yet. If they do, this is a piece of pure nastiness on Crawford's part. Well, it may be that Nagi doesn't like the smell of cigarettes…
Yohji let amusement leak into his words. "There go my first two requests." He opened his eyes. "I want to see them all," he stated. "That's not negotiable." His lips quirked. "I wouldn't object to a few amenities, luxuries like food and bedding. The place is a little bare. Oh, and conditioner. And scented soap." Yes, add a few frivolous items… "A cup."
Yohji meets all of this with some humor. It doesn't mean that he doesn't realize how serious things are, more that he knows he'll start screaming if he doesn't keep mocking. He's also testing here to see how far he can go.
A small noise from Naoe startled Yohji into looking at him. Yohji thought it might have been amusement. He hoped so. A sense of humor might make this bearable. Assuming Crawford's even telling the truth...
I wanted to establish a common ground for Nagi and Yohji, and their senses of humor seemed like reasonable place to start.
Crawford cleared his throat. "As it happens, I anticipated your request to see the others."
Yeah, Crawford, we're all of us predictable that way.
I figured that anybody could have predicted this one.
"If you'll settle for a remote viewing, we can deal with it now."
Yohji looked at the American and could almost hear the subtext. Settle or do without. He won't give me more. "If that's all I can get."
Though he's not saying it, Yohji's looking for proof that Crawford really does have the others. Not that Yohji entirely doubts it, but he's still hoping, and he desperately needs to know.
Crawford nodded and let the upper half of the briefcase fall to the floor. He pulled out a brown box about the size of a backgammon set. He put it on the floor and pushed it toward Yohji. "Nagi," Crawford said in a voice of command.
In a way, I hated that briefcase. I had to remember where it was all the time and remember to have the characters deal with it. It was an absolutely necessary prop, though.
Yohji felt the pressure on his body release and reached for the box. It had a flat screen and a touchpad. The touchpad had plastic labels stuck on. He didn't recognize the underlying symbols.
I meant those symbols as a fairly concrete clue that we're dealing with aliens. Yohji's not stupid, and I think he'd be likely to recognize most styles of Earth writing. He's not thinking all that clearly, so the unfamiliarity isn't registering strongly right now. I suspect, though, that he wonders about it later when he's alone.
