Disclaimer: I sold the horse and bought Gilligan's Island.

Author's Note: Hey all! I'm back and (hopefully) better than ever! I hope that this chapter doesn't turn anyone off, but I figure that with all the torture and conspiracy rampant in the Raildex universe, this wouldn't be too farfetched. And well, this is an adventure story. Also, if things go according to plan (AKA: "If my muse is cooperative") things should start heating up in the next chapter! Enjoy!

To all who reviewed/favorited/alerted: Thank you very much for your interest in this story! I hope I continue to deliver! (And Fanking2: We'll see about Touma. I'm not certain if I know his character well enough to write him, but seeing as this is Touma we're talking about, he's almost guaranteed to be up to his eyeballs in this mess – and run into Mikoto when the sh*t hits the fan.)

Chapter 4: Cooking and Crimes

Once initiated, their reconciliation happened far faster than Mikoto had ever dared to hope. She and Shokuhou had gone from outright antagonism to a tentative, yet genuine, friendship with dizzying speed. Much to Mikoto's consternation, they really were complementary; as the sensei had informed the class that they would be. Mikoto's easy-going nature could easily tolerate Shokuhou's whimsical and mischievous personality; furthermore, although Mikoto was undeniably quick to anger, she was evenly matched by Shokuhou's surprisingly calm and analytical mind, which the blonde maintained even under the most stressful conditions.

They had defined only one set of rules, which delineated the boundaries of their friendship. For Shokuhou, it was that Mikoto was never, under any circumstances, to pry into the other girl's secrets. Shokuhou's secrets were her own, and were not to be drawn into the open air between them. For Mikoto, Shokuhou was never to use her powers in a capacity other than what the school had defined them as. Mental Out had been reduced to Touch Scan, with all of Touch Scan's associated limitations. Secondly, if there was to be any physical contact between Shokuhou and Mikoto, Mikoto was to be the one to initiate it. That was the ironclad rule Shokuhou could never get around.

It wasn't perfect, and both girls knew it. But it was a start, and that was enough.

"Why are we always preparing western foods?"

"To test the full scope of our cooking abilities? Or maybe Takei-sensei is simply a practitioner of Schadenfreude. Anyway, those carrots need to be chopped into circles, not wedges, Misaka-san."

"Oh." She switched the carrots length-wise. "But think about it. To attend Tokiwadai, we all have to be ludicrously wealthy. So it's not like we'll ever have to make chicken Parmesan ourselves, even if it was a meal we'd eat with any frequency, anyway."

"Chicken Parmesan is actually rather nice. You need to branch out more, Misaka-san."

"Well, I'm sorry that I prefer more traditional fare."

"Also, you do realize that tradition has it that men generally prefer a woman who can cook for them? Oh, here. Put those carrots in this bowl. We'll use them later. Now chop these tomatoes into wedges."

"T-t-t-that may be true, but we're still junior high students! We shouldn't be worrying about men right now!"

A sly smile. "But from what I hear, that hasn't stopped you, now has it?"

"Sh-shut up!"

"But I'm curious. Who is this mysterious baka-san you chase at the smallest provocation? What was his name agai-"

"That's none of your business!" Mikoto had, by now, bypassed the red of the tomato she was cutting, and was doing a suitable impression of a traffic light.

"Alright, alright," Shokuhou mumbled through her laughter.

"…You did that on purpose, didn't you."

The other girl simply hummed in reply, setting a large saucepan onto the stovetop and then pouring in smooth tomato sauce. "Once you're done with the tomatoes, add half to this pan and put the other half in the bowl with the carrots. Then, start chopping half of this red onion. I'm going to start breading the chicken."

"With raw egg yolk?"

"And breadcrumbs."

"That sounds disgusting."

"Hmph. Don't judge it 'til you've tried it."

There were a few minutes of companionable silence until Mikoto broke it with: "I still don't understand how you know what you're doing. Why are you such a good cook?"

"There are directions."

"But they don't have half the stuff you have me doing. And I'm going to add the tomatoes now."

"Make sure the heat's on low. We don't want anything to splatter."

"Done."

"Good. Now add the garlic and parsley I set aside, as well as the cup with the herbs in it. You're going to have to keep an eye on the sauce, and stir it if it looks to be too congealed."

"While chopping the onion?"

"Too hard for you?"

"No way!" Mikoto grabbed the onion and got to work. A few moments later, and she understood exactly why Shokuhou had given her the job of onion-chopping. "Dammit-"

"I wouldn't wipe your eyes with your hand."

"You knew this would happen, didn't you."

"Well, it is an onion."

"I hate you."

Gentle laughter, then: "You'll be alright. It's practically a rite of passage for any student of the kitchen."

Mikoto looked through tearing eyes at the blonde telepath, and felt curiosity begin to rear its many- headed form. "You sound as if you've been cooking for most of your life," she started hesitantly.

Maybe it was pity, but Shokuhou finally answered the unspoken question. "I have."

"But you're the most ojou-like ojou I know!"

"Really."

"Well, okay, maybe not; especially as I've gotten to know you better; but you still give off that vibe, and it's obvious your outrageously wealthy. I mean, you abuse that Prada bag of yours as if it were just any old bag from an outlet mall."

"My family may be wealthy, but that does not mean that I grew up in the lap of luxury. If you're done with the onion, put 2/3 into the saucepan, and the rest into the vegetable bowl. And keep stirring! We don't want anything to burn!"

A few minutes of frantic shuffling ensued before Shokuhou could continue. "The Shokuhou are very important people in the business world, with a lot of political clout, as well."

"That's right! The Shokuhou Group is a major investment firm, with large shares in all the top tier bio- and nanotechnology research groups, including those places like Academy City."

"Yes." Shokuhou began poking at the breaded chicken sizzling nicely in another pan. "And having a child around who can read a person's mind, and thus come to know a company's most dangerous secrets, is bad business. My parents sent me to Academy City almost as soon as they realized what I could do. That was nine years ago. I haven't seen them at anything outside of social functions since."

"You were…sent here?" Mikoto whispered softly, shocked. There was only one place in Academy City equipped for handling truly young children.

Shokuhou must have sensed Mikoto's shock, because she wordlessly removed the cutting knife from limp fingers, before setting a large head of lettuce down in front of Mikoto. "I learned how to cook for the other Child Errors while living in the facility. Now, I want you to shred this head of lettuce. Then, you'll toss it and the rest of the vegetables. And we'll add these cucumbers," summoning a small bowl of sliced cucumbers into existence.

Mikoto seized the diversion with relief. She stared at the lettuce incredulously. "What…is this?"

"Oh, it's for the salad." Brightly.

"What…salad? Takei-sensei never said anything about making a salad."

"The salad I wanted with my lunch."

"SHO-KU-HOU!"

"Busy?" Mikoto asked, breezing into the 177th Judgment Branch office.

Kuroko shot her a baleful glare and opened her mouth.

"Ah! Misaka-san! It's good to see you," exclaimed Uiharu, attempting to stop the imminent avalanche.

"Misaka-san has had some personal matters to attend to, haven't you, Misaka-san," said Saten archly.

Surprizingly, Kuroko did not explode. Instead, she seemed to wither instead under some awful weight. "Don't remind me," she moaned. "That wretched Shokuhou girl is stealing my beloved onee-sama away from me!"

Paying no attention to the smoldering girl on the floor, Saten continued knowingly, "So you've managed to get along with Shokuhou-san, after all?"

Mikoto mumbled an embarrassed response in the affirmative, but it was Kuroko who cut in next, sounding unusually serious.

"Just be careful, onee-sama. Uiharu and I did a fairly thorough background check, and there's nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's as if she spontaneously came into existence a year ago, when she transferred into Tokiwadai. Before that, there's nothing."

"What," breathed Mikoto, bewildered. "But she said that she has been living in Academy City since she was six years old."

"Living…here?" Kuroko looked as shocked as Mikoto felt. "Where? Where!" she demanded excitedly.

"Um, a Child Error Facility? She said that she was sent to one as soon as she began to manifest her powers."

"Uiharu!" Kuroko gestured excitedly at her chair, signaling that the flower-decked girl should sit down. "Do you know which one?"

"No…"

"Well, no matter. It shouldn't be that hard to find a Child Error Facility fully equipped to handle a Level 3 telepath."

Mikoto grimaced. And it would be even easier if I could tell you that she's actually a Level 5…

"Umm, I think I'm missing something here, but I thought Child Error Facilities were only for Level 0s?" Saten asked carefully, more than half embarrassed.

"That's actually just a common misconception," Kuroko replied, slipping into lecture mode. "A Child Error can be any level esper. A Child Error is really just any child who has been abandoned by his or her parents and made a dependent of Academy City. Child Error Facilities are really just glorified orphanages. So you see," she finished, switching back to the topic at hand, "because it concerns a ward of the state, there will always be some documentation on Child Errors. We just have to dig harder!"

"Which you can do later, in your free time," came a harsh voice from the door. "Or have you forgotten the case we've been working on?"

Kuroko flinched, while Uiharu's face drained of color. "Oh!" Mikoto said, standing up and bowing hurriedly. "Good afternoon, Konori-san!"

The older woman's face softened, and she smiled tiredly. Wordlessly, Uiharu got up and began to make some tea as pleasantries were exchanged.

Once they were all settled in with a warm cup in hand, Kuroko started quietly, "Anything new?"

"No," Konori replied. "It's the same as before."

"Oh." Uiharu whispered, sinking into her chair. "That's horrible."

Mikoto looked at the three long faces confusedly, and then over at Saten, who was worrying her lip nervously. "What, what's going on?"

She nearly flinched when four stares of varying incredulity were turned on her. But the tense moment quickly passed, and a wry smile flitted across Konori's face.

"That's right. You don't watch the news very often; do you, Misaka-san?"

"Well, I-" Mikoto began, flustered.

"It's alright." Laughingly. More soberly, Konori continued, "There have been a series of crimes in the 8th district, which have just recently passed over into the 7th. We've been coordinating with the 178th in an attempt to get a handle on it."

"What kind of crimes," Mikoto asked, beginning to get more worried still.

A pause, then: "Attacks. There have been 6 attacks in the past 8 weeks. 4 in the 8th district, 2 here. We think there's only one perpetrator, because they're all committed in the same style, against the same target: young girls of 12-14 years of age."

Mikoto felt a chill. "What happened to them."

Konori's eyes closed, and here voice came out as carefully expressionless. "There are never any signs of a struggle. And they've all been…raped. Our only clue is that they all appear to have a blank in their memory of several hours duration. We find them in back allies. They're always dressed, except for the fact that they are missing their panties."

Mikoto felt sick. There was no anger, no sparking electricity. Just bile rising in her throat.

"This has been going on for…months?"

Konori's head jerked once.

"Have you…informed…?"

"Not all the details, but yes. A warning has been issued to the general public. Girls in the 12-14 age range have been advised to walk around in large groups and not be out too late at night," Kuroko continued in Konori's stead.

"I…see." She felt impotent; weak and powerless before the monster named inertia.

Something must have shown on her face because Kuroko smiled weakly at her, before gently taking Mikoto's hand in her own. "I know," Kuroko whispered, softly. "I know."

There was too much sympathy in her friends' eyes. Mikoto stood up swiftly, and turned to look out the window, back to her friends. "I'm going to…walk you all home, do you understand. Until this is over. I won't let you be hurt." Whirling suddenly, to stare hard at Kuroko. "I won't ask to help in this investigation. But let me protect you."

"Onee-sama…"

"Kuroko."

The auburn-haired girl gave a defeated smile. "Very well. But you have to be careful too, do you hear me? I'd never forgive myself if you…"

"I don't think you need to worry about that, Shirai-san," Saten interrupted. "Between the four of us," smiling fondly at Uiharu, before turning more serious eyes on Mikoto and Kuroko, "not much can hurt us. Not with our genius hacker, Level 4 teleporter, and the Railgun herself!"

Mikoto couldn't help the wry smile as she added: "Don't forget the Level 0 who always knows exactly what to say and never loses her cool in a bad situation…"

It was nice to see Saten blush for a change.

It was only much later, once Mikoto had made sure all her friends had gotten home without incident, and Kuroko was safely asleep, did she allow her mind to wander. Why is this happening? Who could possibly…but that question wasn't very hard to answer. Maybe that baka will know something…By the time she finally drifted into a fitful sleep, Mikoto only knew one thing with certainty: I have to keep them safe. I have to.