Misaki leaned across the counter and added a touch more concealer to the dark circles beneath her eyes. She stared at her reflection: it still didn't look entirely natural, but from a distance no one would be able to tell that she'd had less than four hours' sleep in the past four days.
Ootsuka poked her head into the restroom. "Chief, they're ready for you. And the Minister's speech writer sent over another draft."
"Another one?" Misaki took the stapled pages from the other woman and skimmed over the first few paragraphs. The revised text was even more vague and banal than the last draft had been. She dropped it onto the counter. "Do you still have a copy of the one we put together last night?"
"Here. I updated it with the redactions that the Commissioner-General wanted."
"This is perfect - thanks, Ootsuka."
The Astronomics Liaison beamed briefly, before covering up the smile with a more suitable sober expression. While the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Commissioner-General of the National Police Agency argued with other each over what was and what wasn't appropriate to reveal to the public after EPR's open attack on the Gate, the two women had spent hours writing up the statement that Misaki would deliver to the press this morning. Ootsuka, as it turned out, had a real gift for taking dry information and crafting it into something that a lay person could connect with. And then the Minister's speech writer had eviscerated it, replacing all necessary revelations with the same useless platitudes that would satisfy no one.
Neither of the government men had been happy with the fact that Misaki had called the press conference on her own. They'd been even less happy with the details of what she planned to say. And they had been right, on some points; but it was no longer feasible to hide the existence of contractors from the world, and she'd taken the burden of that decision on herself. It was the only way to guarantee that the Syndicate had no voice in the future of contractor relations. Without a voice, they had no power.
"Are you ready, Chief?"
Misaki's pulse picked up reflexively, and she forced herself to breathe deeply. "Give me a minute - I'll be right there."
As the other woman left the restroom, Misaki tucked a loose strand of hair into its clip, then smoothed her shirt collar. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the fabric, as it had been hanging in a garment bag in Hourai's former office until ten minutes ago; she'd slept in the suit that she'd been wearing yesterday, and she hadn't trusted herself not to spill coffee all over this one. She tugged her jacket down, then paused with her hand resting on her belly. No one can tell; you're just being silly.
"You can do this," she told her reflection. "It's just a few reporters - no different from a debriefing with your team. They're part of your team now - you need them on your side. At least, you will if you still have a job tomorrow."
Her reflection stared back at her, calm, capable, and in charge. "Right," she said. "Let's go."
Misaki had never hosted a press conference before; her department typically stayed as far from the public eye as possible. The few that she had sat in on had all been small, with barely half a dozen reporters in attendance. This one would probably attract more, maybe even three times as many; Hourai's phone had been ringing practically off the hook ever since she'd officially announced the event yesterday afternoon. So it would be a bit larger than a debriefing with her team; but still not all that different. Two dozen would be manageable. Like a joint mission with Organized Crime, she thought as her footsteps echoed down the tiled hall.
She pushed open the door to the 'stage' - a podium and row of chairs at the front of the room - and was hit with a wall of sound. Reporters and photographers filled every seat, were crammed against the back wall, lining the sides, and even crouched in the center aisle. There must be a hundred, at least. The continuous murmur of voices picked up when they saw her, and camera flashes popped.
She very nearly turned around right then and there - but then she saw her team, lined up on the other side of the podium waiting for her. Matsumoto smiled thinly, and Kouno gave her a discreet thumbs up. Saitou stared stiffly ahead as Ootsuka slipped into place on his other side. Misaki took a deep breath, and crossed to the podium.
It's no different than a debriefing, she reminded herself. Pretend they're your team. She set the pages down on the podium and squared the corners neatly, then adjusted the microphone height. Her throat was dry; she should have brought water. Why hadn't anyone thought to get her a bottle of water?
It doesn't matter. Just focus. She pushed her glasses to the top of her nose, took a deep breath, and began to read.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the press. Thank you for coming this morning. My name is Kirihara Misaki, chief of Section Four, Foreign Affairs."
The din quieted to near-silence; the tapping of keys and scratching of pencils filled the space. Misaki didn't dare look up from the page.
"Section Four was officially formed nine years ago, approximately one year after the appearance of Hell's Gate. Our mandate is to investigate all crimes and instances related to the Gate that may impact public security and safety. Our primary role is in fact to interface with contractors."
A sudden uproar met her words. People shouted out questions and accusations, one over the other in a confused tangle. "Are you stating that contractors actually -" "- pop culture myth is in fact -" "- so those videos are -" "What do you mean by interface? Has government been -"
Misaki crossed her arms and glared out at the room until the voices subsided. "If you're all done interrupting me, I'll continue now," she said flatly. To her right, one of her subordinates choked back a cough.
After a brief moment to locate her place again, she read, "The existence of contractors has been kept from the public for the past decade by consensus of a global summit convened by Interpol and the United Nations in the fall of nineteen ninety-eight. I won't go into the history now, as it isn't relevant. What is relevant is the fact that early yesterday morning, an organized group of contractors launched an assault on Hell's Gate in open public."
Again, the room erupted in questions. Again, Misaki waited for them to subside before continuing. "Despite efforts at keeping all knowledge of contractors classified, many rumors have circulated throughout the years, especially here in Tokyo around Hell's Gate. At the behest of my superiors and in the interest of public safety, most of that knowledge will remain classified. What I can tell you is this: contractors are humans. They are people who, through no fault of their own, have been changed by the Gate. They possess abilities that appear to be supernatural, but in fact have sound scientific explanation. However, they pay a price for these abilities, and part of that price is the loss of a sense of connection to others. Contractors first and foremost act in their own self-interest."
"Are you saying they're basically super-powered sociopaths?" someone called out.
Misaki glanced around the room, but couldn't find who had spoken. "In a way. But remember: contractors have existed for the past ten years. They've been living beside you, working beside you. You've passed them on the street probably every day." And some of you have had your memories of it erased; but we're not going to bring that up now. The Commissioner-General had been quite adamant on that point, and Misaki agreed wholeheartedly.
"But if one decides it's in his self-interest to rob a bank by blasting a hole in the wall, who's going to stop him?" a woman asked.
"I will," Misaki said. "My team and I are responsible for investigating contractor-related crime and preventing violence. And as I said, contractors are rational. Attracting the attention of the police - and the public - is not in their best interest. They live as quietly and peacefully as they can." At least they would if our governments would let them.
"Then what happened yesterday?" another woman called out. "Why an open attack on the Gate - what is inside that they want?"
A low murmur of agreement followed her words. Of course it would look that way to the public; it was common (albeit erroneous) knowledge that the 'terrorists' in South America had fought for control over Heaven's Gate, thinking that it would grant them some sort of power. It would be reasonable to ascribe the same motives to EPR - if you didn't know any better.
"The assault was carried out by an organization known as Evening Primrose," Misaki said, skipping ahead a few lines in her statement. "They didn't attack for any kind of gain, or power. They were trying to prevent their complete annihilation at the hands of Pandora." Here she paused, expecting another outburst; instead, the room fell almost silent, her audience staring up at her in stunned confusion.
"For the past several months," she continued after a moment, "my team has been investigating what we thought was a mole for a large criminal organization in our department. What we ended up uncovering was a massive, nation-wide, and probably global-wide, shadow government known as the Syndicate. The Director of Research at Pandora, Eric Nishijima, was a member. Under his leadership, the scientists at Pandora were using the research facility as a screen to develop a weapon which would result in the destruction of every contractor on the planet. The assault by Evening Primrose yesterday morning was an attempt to distract the Pandora Peacekeepers long enough to get one of their agents inside to sabotage the weapon. Their attempt was successful, though many contractors lost their lives in the process."
"This is quite a large claim," a man spoke up suddenly. "Mr. Nishijima is well-known and respected here in the city, and has been a capable leader at Pandora. What proof do you have of any of this? Where is Mr. Nishijima to tell his side of the story?"
Misaki took a deep breath. "My proof is my own eye witness testimony, as well as the testimony of several Pandora scientists who have come forward in the last twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, Mr. Nishijima will not be able to defend himself: he was executed on the spot when the Syndicate's plan failed, by my immediate superior, Section Four Director Hourai Yoshimitsu. Director Hourai is currently in custody; we have his confession to Nishijima's murder and attempted cover-up on tape."
The questions exploded after that. Misaki answered them one at a time, as best she could without straying from the parameters that she'd been given by her superiors. The strongest concerns centered around the formation of the Syndicate, and exactly how much control they had over Pandora and the Gate. The only answer that Misaki could give them was, "Interpol and the UN are conducting independent investigations into this matter; that's all I can say for now."
After the fourth repetition of that answer in a row, she was about ready to call an end to the conference. Then a young man stood up. "Toda Toru, Yomiuri Shimbun," he said by way of introduction, then continued, "From what I saw yesterday, it took a full military force to combat the contractors that attacked the Gate. I saw a little boy throw a ball that caused the street to swallow up two tanks - gone without a trace! Your words seemed to confirm one of the most prevalent stories: that contractors are people without a conscience, monsters who will kill without a second thought. Why then are we not supporting the actions of Pandora and this Syndicate?"
There was a low murmur of agreement throughout the room. It was the question that Misaki had been praying no one would think to ask, at least not yet. Her mind raced, trying to come up with a reason that carried more weight than 'it would be wrong'. She opened her mouth to bullshit her way though, when a second man stood up and raised his hand.
He was in his middle years, with horn rimmed glasses and hair graying at the temples . Misaki debated whether she could risk another dangerous question on top of the first, but something about the way he was waiting patiently for her to call on him made her pause. "Yes, sir?" she asked after a moment.
The man cleared his throat. "Ten years ago," he said in a quiet voice that hushed the murmurs around him, "not long after Hell's Gate appeared, my son changed. Overnight he went from cheerful and full of energy to cold and distant, without a care for the rest of his family. He walked out of the house two days later and never returned. Do you think that he might have become a contractor?"
"That is a very likely theory, yes," Misaki said.
"If this Evening Primrose organization had not prevented Pandora from carrying out their plan, my son would have died?"
The room was completely silent now. "Yes," Misaki said. "He and thousands of others would have ceased to exist."
The man nodded. "Then I owe them my thanks," he said, and seated himself again.
"I know what the rumors say," Misaki said, taking back control of the conversation before another question could be asked. "And they're true: the contractors that first appeared were indeed cold, and heartless, and killed without remorse. But that was ten years ago; they've changed since then. I've spent my entire police career chasing them down - and working alongside them. I've seen them proud; I've seen them sad; and I've seen them grateful. I've seen them die for something that they believed in. Each of the false stars in the sky is linked to the life of an individual contractor; when you watch a star fall, you are watching the death of a human being. Last night dozens of stars fell; dozens of contractors sacrificed their lives for a cause that was larger than themselves. How many of us would do the same?"
She had her listeners' full attention, and she fixed each face in her gaze as her eyes slowly swept the room. "What the Syndicate, through Pandora, tried to do was genocide. They condemned to death people who were our friends, our parents, our siblings, for no other reason than that they feared them, because they are different. They thought they could get away with it, because who will speak up for a group of people when you don't even know that they exist? So Evening Primrose stood up for themselves. And I will stand up for them, and so will my team. It's no longer feasible for contractors to remain hidden in shadows. Evening Primrose wanted public acknowledgment of the existence of contractors, as well as guarantees of full rights as citizens. I propose to give it to them.
"It's been a decade since the Gate appeared, and it looks like it's here to stay. So are contractors. If we want to be able to live peacefully side by side, if we want to build a better future for our chil - for our children, we need to accept them, and integrate them into society. The United Nations is convening an emergency summit to discuss this very question; in the meantime, we must move forward with understanding, not fear. Thank you."
The room was silent as she stepped away from the podium. It wasn't until she'd reached the side door that the uproar of questions began, and followed her out.