Title: The title comes from a The Impressionists song called 'People get Ready' - and, why, the lyrics are down there! Imagine that!
Summary: When Six is called away to an English mission, Rex is given a new mentor - whom he despises. But Madam Seven may be more than she seems, and he may need her help to save Six from what could be the biggest (and fastest mission to date).
A/N: Woot, finally something that's not a oneshot and Treasure Planet related! Well, what can I say? I love G-Rex! This show has taken over my life and my better judgement. And I love Rex! Besides being really, disturbingly handsome, he's also such a goldmine of woobieness and neediness and... augh, he's too cute! *dies*
Expect to see trains here. A LOT of trains. That may or may not be entirely accurate in depiction. (Don't flame if you find bad research - save the flames for burning White Knight at stake.) Hopefully, the English railway system hasn't changed that much from our generation to Rex's. xD
And... Madam Seven is totally my mom and my Literature teacher rolled into one. xD And - heads up! - her linguistic patterns weren't meant to follow Malaysians today. It's more of a Salman Rushdieish sort of semi-English because she can't speak either English nor Malay very well independently.
People get ready
There's a train a-coming
You don't need no baggage
You just get on board
All you need is faith
To hear the diesels humming
You don't need no ticket
You just thank the Lord
- From 'People Get Ready' by The Impressionists.
* * *
1.1. Agent Seven
Agent Seven's real name was Madam Sheri Mazlinda – not French 'Cherie', but 'Sheri', with an 'S' – a formidable buxom woman with generous buttocks and an overwhelming smell of rosewater and sweat. She was, according to the morning briefing, the only Asian in The Ten, and took great pride in outranking everyone but six people at Providence.
She was Rex's new handler and the EVO boy despised her on first glance.
There was something disgusting about the woman – he couldn't quite pick out what he hated the most – her habit of very indiscreetly wiping the sweat off her upper lip with her hand, or the annoying rapping of her ringed knuckles on the table whenever she got bored.
To his credit, he had been civil on their first meeting. But what he'd originally referred to as a 'nice sari' earned him a sharp glare and a lesson on how 'sari' was an Indian word and how she was, clearly (as mud), Malaysian.
Bobo, on the other hand, had taken to the woman like a magnet to the refrigerator door. She was, at least, to the chimp, 'homely'. He'd spent every morning briefing next to her at the table, letting her slowly stroke his scalp. Rex shuddered, disgusted at them both. He could see the family resemblance.
Over the course of a week, she'd become a regular at the briefings, and a common sight at the Providence base. Rex thought nothing more of it. She was just another person – albeit an annoying, smelly, and very important one. Truth be told, he could have even enjoyed her company, if she'd given him some space and even more time. Instead, she did the opposite.
"I will," she had announced in the doorway of his room, "take over the duties of your former handler, boy,"
Rex spat out his drink, forming an impressive arc of water which he wasn't in the mood to admire.
"Former?" He gathered himself. "But... no, I have Agent Six and..." His voice droned off, as he struggled to remember the last time he'd seen the man. A week ago, maybe? No, probably a month. Now that he put his mind to it, Six had never been, nor felt, so distant before.
"Six is relieved of his duties, boy." Madam Seven said, in a remarkable Six-like monotone. "As of today, you listen to Madam."
"You can't do that!" Rex found himself glowering. "Six wouldn't let you... I wouldn't let you!
"Hey, kid, be nice," Bobo warned, emerging from behind Seven's heavy skirt. Rex narrowed his eyes.
"Traitor." He snarled, a feral growl emerged from his throat.
"Sleep boy," Madam Seven pushed the door's shut button, letting the closing door end their conversation for her. "We start training tomorrow."
Rex banged his fist on the metal sharply. "We'll see what Dr. Holiday says about this, you smelly... slugpersonbitchthing!" He was never good at cussing.
He could have easily have commanded the door to open, or complained to the Doc, but arguing against Seven would be just as fruitless as arguing against Six. It wouldn't get him anywhere. To top it off, Bobo had left with her. He'd never felt so utterly, completely alone.
With his back to the door, he slid down to the floor. So, this was it. He was sold to a new master.
Training under Seven consisted of the oddest things – from a trip to a supermarketplace ("Find all of the grocery things on list under a minute. Now, boy, run!") to reading aloud to her in the Providence library (always the boring books, like 'War and Peace', and 'Dorian Gray') where she could comment on his bad pronunciation, much to Bobo's sniggering.
"Dor-ree-an, boy, Dorean! Not 'Durian'! Durian is a fruit! Fruit, boy, fruit!"
Today, Madam Seven (who was liberal enough to be called 'Sheri' by some) was reading from an electronic book – and a fairly recent one, too. Rex stared enviously from his own library chair, where he nursed an old ratty paperback of 'Emperor of the North Pole'. It was, from what he'd gathered, vaguely about poor people who fought a lot and hated each other's guts for it. What a thriller.
It had been two months. Sixty godforsaken, Agent-Sixless days.
Silently, he wondered where the man was, what he was doing, and – most importantly – if he was ever coming back.
* * *
1.2. Pariah.
There are three kinds of people in the world – people who count, and people who can't.
That always cracked me mom up. She was a terrible, terrible sucker for bad humour.
What about you? You like jokes?
...
I'll take your silence as a no.
The man who was constantly referred to as Agent Six brought his American milkshake closer to him, his expression devoid of emotion. Across the table, what looked to be a sixteen- year-old girl was seated, looking out through the window at the turnover of trains and shaking her legs (and occasionally, apologetically, kicking him).
Her callused fingers were interlaced together, a gesture of misleading polite formality, since her T-shirt clearly read 'FUCK ME' in bold white lettering. A niggling notion kept invading Six's mind – Rex would love a shirt like that. He did his absolute best to ignore it.
As for his own clothes, he'd, sadly, done away with his suit. Instead, a roomy red and orange Hawaiian was draped around his shoulders, which did an amazing lot to hide his musculature and his katanas. He shifted around uncomfortably in the shirt's roomy comfort. The clothes were Providence's decision – he had to blend in for this.
"Oi'm Dipsy," FUCK ME girl grinned. One of front teeth was missing. "Wassyourname, Mistah Six?"
His eyes still shielded by his shades, he raised his brow dismissively. Questioning Six, said the eyebrow, was out of the question.
"Well... D'ye want... anythin' else?" She looked over at his empty, dishwasher-clean plate. "There's blueberry pie here and I swear it's better than the shite they'll serve ye in London an'..."
Her droning, accented voice subsided slowly, to Six, into background noise. I don't have time for this, his mind screamed. Expertly, he smothered his impatience, and pulled out the folders from his suitcase. Arranging them neatly between on the table, he chose the thinnest and handed it to the girl.
"Five weeks ago, Miss Tern, a co-worker of yours disappeared."
The file opened up to a comprehensive writeup of one Guido Polunochnaya, complete with a little paperclip pinning a passport-sized picture tight to it. Polunochnaya had a startling Greek profile and dark, clever eyes. He was, as the writeup mentioned, a racial pariah consisting of everything Europe had to offer – Italian, Russian, Czech, French, Polish, and then some.
"Now, Miss Tern, I understand you were close to Mister Polunochnaya?" Six silently thanked the heavens that the name had left his mouth properly pronounced. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to get it right.
"Well, yeah," She flipped through the rest of the report – a detailed account of Polunochnaya's medical status (nothing, save a history of juvenile asthma), Polunochnaya's criminal record (blank), and Polunochnaya's last submitted resume (he was a Technical Engineer from Sheffield who 'loved to work with trains').
It was nothing she didn't already know.
"Sorry," she handed him back the folder, before picking up a second, this time with notably less interest. "Oi don't know where this's goin'."
This one documented Polunochnaya's school history (from day-care to university), Polunochnaya's credit card statement for the last year, and – well, this was interesting – a writeup of him from Providence psychoanalysts and doctors. She began to skim with voracious eyes.
In conclusion, due to Mr. P's complex genetic makeup, medical history, and his proximity to the area now known as Abysuss during The Event, we may conclude with little doubt that...
Six dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Providence has... reasons to believe Palomino –" Six stopped, cleared his throat, and corrected himself: "Polunochnaya... is suffering from the sides effects of the Nanite Event."
She stopped. At the end of the write up, just under the signature of a Dr. Sandra Holiday, M.D., was an inked stamp – the bold red rectangular sort with large letters. Amidst a sea of typed print, the stamp caught her off-guard. Till now, she'd never thought they existed outside period dramas.
But what shook her wasn't the anachronism, it was what it said.
In red, unforgiving font, was a single phrase:
"ACTIVE E.V.O".
"Dipsy," Agent Six's expression was mercilessly calm. "Guido Polunochnaya's an EVO. A large, potentially sick, and very dangerous EVO." His fingertips met in a Mr. Burnsesque pyramid.
"...And I believe you know where he is."
A/N: Forsooth, do we spy Six being *gasp* ...EVUL? D:
It's probably the shirt - I'm sure he has his reasons.
Psst! My sister told me she imagined Dipsy looked like that Hispanic chick from Disney's Atlantis (sure, it was a bad movie, but it had good characters). XD Good luck imagining her with a Cockney accent.
Also, I update slooowly... But your comments, subs and favourites might gnee me into action! cB
-Nickyoff!