Mika's flat was oddly empty without Raizo puttering around in the kitchen.
Even though he never spent the night (as far as she knew, anyway), his silent presence was somehow comforting. Over the last month she had grown accustomed to seeing Raizo out of the corner of her eye, usually with his head in the fridge (eating her desserts). She even missed his insufferably lengthy and ceremonial-like method of preparing tea. It was odd to go back to her old routine of bouncing research ideas off of only herself.
God. Did she miss him?
She snorted. She couldn't possibly; he had only been around a month before he (once again) decided to drop off the face of the planet. It had been a week since what she dubbed "the Event", and she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. She wasn't really the sort to panic, but Raizo was cutting it damn close, with her flight to LA in two days. Right. Mika wasn't panicking, Mika was angry. It was so irritatingly immature of him to disappear as soon as the going got tough.
He has a demon inside of him; it's a pretty damn big burden to bear.
Mika groaned. Stupid conscience. She understood that it was something to be upset about, but couldn't he just shove the issue aside for later examination? That's what she had done, because frankly, thinking about demons inside of humans was beyond her grasp. It went beyond the scope of anything she had read, researched or, god forbid, experienced.
That's why the issue was folded and neatly put away, so when she had time to look at it, she could research the living daylight out of it.
But you're not the one living with it inside you.
Grumping, she sighed as her cell's alarm blared, alerting her to the fact that her clothing at the Laundromat was just about finished in its dry cycle. She quickly slipped on a pair of jeans and a windbreaker over her tank top and made her way down the block.
Wrinkling her nose in distaste as she folded the atrociously frilly and girly clothes hand-picked by Raizo himself, she bit her lip in irritation as she realized she had already lost 4 halves of 4 pairs of socks. She hadn't even had a chance to wear them yet! It was absurd how often she lost socks to the dryer machine.
Mika gathered her hair into a bun and quickly fixed it into place with a pencil she saw lying nearby, and dove her head into the dryer in an attempt to find her lost socks, lest they be hidden in some nooks or crannies (...in the rounded dryer). Lint, some more lint, and oh, she thought to herself, brightening, some loose change and last week's washed out grocery list. But, alas, no socks. Huffing, she turned back with a frown to her basket of neatly folded clothes, only to pause in confusion. She looked wildly around her, but she was alone in the store except for the owner, so she ran quickly out of the store and scanned the sidewalks, but there was no one there.
She ignored the quizzical look the owner shot her as she walked back in the store, hesitantly approaching the mysterious dark brown drawstring pouch that had just appeared beside her laundry.
Classic Raizo move.
Or another clan declaring you as their mark for the night.
Ignoring that thought, she settled on it being Raizo. But apparently he was still too miffed to show his face. Her hands hesitated before pulling apart the drawstrings, and she decided to examine it once she was back home. With more a spring to her step, she hurried in grabbing everything and shoving it into her car, hoping that she would find Raizo back home.
She lumbered up the steps with the basket in her hands and the pouch swinging from the belt of her jeans, messing about her pockets until she found the key and let herself into her apartment, and in her rush, tripping like a lumbering moron over the basket that she had just placed in front of her. Standing there in the dark, she sighed, rubbed her temples and felt like a moron for getting her hopes up.
The lights would have been on had he been home.
More disappointed than she would have liked to admit, Mika turned around and locked her door behind her, before flipping on the lights and leaving her laundry spilling dejectedly onto the threshold and made her way to her bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went.
Flopping onto her unmade bed, she reached down and undid the pouch from her belt to examine the pouch. Some sort of satin, though it seemed rather brittle and... starchy? with stiffness. Frowning, she pulled open the pouch gently and pulled out what seemed like a... bracelet? She reached over to flick on the night table light, and examined it closely, her brow furrowing in confusion. It was simple as far as ornaments went, but it had a feel of agedness to it. The majority of it was a twisted black silk rope, which wound its way inside an elongated bead, which was a deep green in color, with 3 white arches inscribed on it. There were also white bands around the edges of the bead, and on closer inspection, she detected finely written white script throughout the entirety of the bead, but the font was so miniscule in size she had first assumed the script to be scratches all over the bead.
She rolled over to lie on her back and fiddled with the bracelet, a thought tickling the edges of her brain. The bead reminded her of malas of an eastern Asian origin – something that was used in prayers. Buddhist prayers... with that thought in mind, she lunged out of bed with the pouch and bracelet in hand, and headed over to her desktop computer. Quickly booting it up, she googled 'script bead prayer', and after a few tries and refining her search, she came across dzi beads. Feeling like a cat that got the cream, she leaned back with a satisfied smile. According to the blog, she had been right, and there was script inscribed on the bead – in fact, it was called the "script dzi bead". It symbolized power and mastery over all forms of communication, especially between heaven and earth, and in general was known as the "bead of archivists" and the "bead of scribes", which, she grudgingly had to admit, was a good fit for her.
But it was still rather odd of Raizo to get it for her. She wracked her brain to figure out why he could have possibly gotten it, and thought back to their last conversation ("the Event"). With a quizzical lift of her brow, she remembered him pressing insistently and asking "Your greatest or ultimate quest in life would be one of knowledge?"
Thinking it had been weird (even for him) at the time, she looked back down at the bracelet and shrugged, realizing that there was no such thing as random with Raizo. Setting the bracelet on the desk before her gently, she walked over to kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, before heading back to the workstation to do some further research on the history dzi beads.
Out of curiosity, she picked up the stiff pouch in which the bracelet had been and examined it closely for any other hints. There seemed to be specks of white edging the drawstrings, as if paint had gotten underneath it. But that wouldn't make sense. She put the pouch back and grabbed her glass of water and took a sip, then set it back, and after a moment's hesitation, slipped the bracelet onto her right wrist.
Shrugging in perplexion, she turned back to the screen and read a few articles from some academic journals, most of which reinforced the basic information she had found from googling. Yawning, she reached blindly for her glass and brought to her lips only to freeze.
She placed it back on the table and stared at it, hard. There were red smudges ringing around the glass, where she had grasped it.
The white specks weren't paint – it was the original colour of the pouch. The pouch wasn't stiff with age, it was stiff with dried blood. Her wet fingers had examined the pouch, and the blood had transferred to her hands.
Chilled, she realized that Raizo had killed for the innocent-looking ornament on her arm.
Taking one last look at all the seats around Departure Gate 34B, Mika sighed in consternation. She didn't know what she wanted. After realizing the nature of Raizo's rather disturbing 'gift', she wasn't sure whether she wanted to see him to call him to task on it, or avoid him entirely until she could safely get over it.
But a part of her had hoped that he would at least show up for her flight to LA. Especially when she wasn't too fond of flying, nor had she ever been. It's not like he knew that, stupid girl, she told herself off, more than a little embarrassed that she was already so dependent on him, when he had barely re-entered her life, and she had lived her life fine for the past two decades.
Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Mika gathered her carry-on and her purse and strode towards the awaiting gate. Now or never, Mika.
"Mika! Wait!"
She whipped her head around and her breath whooshed out in excitement, a bright smile on her face to greet…Maslow.
"Oh," she said, her smile faltering for a moment, "You came to see me off!"
He quirked a sandy eyebrow at her. "Expecting someone else, love? Of course I came to see you off – you're my partner!"
Blushing, she stammered, "No, of course not, but thank you," shooting him a grateful smile, she added, "It means a lot. This is the biggest case I've been assigned yet,"
He smiled softly at her. "They assigned it to you because they know you can handle it, Mika. You've got guts, and you've got brains. You'll do just fine," He hesitated for a moment, and then grabbed her free hand and held it between his two. Mika felt her colour rise. "But that's not going to stop me from worrying about you,"
She rolled her eyes at him. "You can always track me through the silicone GPS chip on the back of my neck, Maslow. You'll always know where I am,"
Mumbling under his breath and tightening his grasp on her hand, he muttered, "But I won't be there," Seeing her blush he coughed, as if embarrassed, and continued, "Don't hesitate to contact me if you even so much as get the slightest willies, all right?"
"Don't worry. At least I'll have back-up," she replied.
He snorted. "Yeah, probably some love struck high school sweetheart of yours," He let her hand and fall, and made shooing gestures toward her, gently nudging her towards the gate.
Laughing, she picked up her carry-on again and walked away, smiling and waving.
"Oi, Mika!" he called out behind her, rather rushed.
"Yeah?" she asked, turning her head slightly as she walked.
"Don't be gone too long – and when you come back, I'm going to do right by you. The upper levels can sod off with their rules – we're going to be together," He said determinedly, and by the steadiness in his eyes as he looked at her, she knew he would try.
Myers never made declarations that he couldn't follow through with.
"Are you all right, dear? You don't look too peachy," she heard a querulous voice ask her. Cracking open one eye, she gave a darting glance towards the elderly lady beside here, and managed to stammer out a reply.
"I'll be fine just as soon as this plane lands. Thank you for asking," she replied tightly – reminding herself to keep a polite tone.
The smell of lilac-scented powder wafted over to her as the old lady leaned towards her to reassuringly pat her hand. "Won't be long now my dear – just another half hour or so. Let me take your mind off the descent with a few stories…"
Sighing, Mika resigned herself to listen to the ramblings of a simply friendly senior, something which at any other time she wouldn't have minded, but not while she was trying to prevent a panic attack. Just nod in the appropriate places, Mika. Or, rather, Chanel.
That gave her an idea. To keep calm, she reviewed her entire 'history' mentally, and prepared herself for any questions Raizo's – or Li, as he was calling himself – triad friends would have for their pasts. Before she even knew it, and while under the influence of her neighbour's lilting and soothing tones, the plane was rolling on the tarmac.
Praise the lord, she prayed fervently. Thanking and assisting the old lady with her stowed away luggage, Mika sighed in relief as she finally stepped off the plane and headed towards the luggage pick-up area. Ignoring the disdainful looks that her matching zebra-striped Gucci luggage pieces recieved (rather overstated and embarrassing, but Raizo had insisted it would fit with her heiress persona), huffing, she hefted them onto the trolley and made room for her carry on as well.
As she neared the doors to the walkway of the international arrival zone, she felt butterflies burst in her stomach in anticipation.
This wasn't just any assignment – this was the assignment of a lifetime, in a field she was enchanted by, in more ways than one. She had a feeling that everything she had known till now would be challenged, and both the mystic as well as criminal worlds would leave her astounded.
She only hoped that the latter didn't sweep her off her feet.
That was the biggest challenge with undercover assignments – if you were in too deep, and for too long, sometimes the lure was just too strong to retain the criminal persona. Fast cars, fancy toys, prestige and power – it was a deadly combination, more often than not even the most loyal agents' undoing.
"Li's girl, huh? You're cuter than he said you were," a voice broke her out of her reverie.
"Pardon?" she asked in surprise, not realizing that she had already been walking down the aisle. A dark, dimpled and lean man sauntered into view, grinning at her. She swept her gaze over him, noting the stylish grey jacket he had on, rolled up to his elbows, revealing the traditional triad tattoos expected of a high level criminal. According to his, he had killed dozens of people already, she observed with more than little trepidation. His hair was buzzed close to his head, and it suited him, giving him a hard, military-style edge. A diamond stud twinkled at her from his left earlobe, and his eyes, dark brown, were sharp as they took her in, and framed in ridiculously long lashes.
Smirk fixed firmly in place, he offered his hand to her. "I'm Heng, gorgeous,"
Fixing a perky smile on her face (just like miss perfect pants heiress Chanel would), she took his proffered hand and replied sunnily in a Texan twang, "Chanel Mabelle Duquesne. Pleasure," she added, lowering her eyelashes in what she hoped was a ditzy manner.
It seemed to work, because his swagger seemed to increase as he rather chivalrously took the heavy trolley from her. "Pleasure's all mine, doll,"
"I see you didn't get the memo, Heng. I said I didn't need any assistance picking my girlfriend up," She stiffened when along with the all too familiar baritone, a hand lightly pressed itself against the small of her back as Raizo sidled up alongside her, carelessly placing his arm possessively around her. "Good to see you, Belle," Raizo murmured, nuzzling her on the side of her neck.
"Oops," Heng chuckled, but she knew from the calculating gleam in his eye that it was not harmlessly. "My bad. I forgot! Just wanted to help a brother out with any problems,"
Raizo – Li – nodded coolly at him and took the trolley from Heng without missing a beat, leaving her side. "It's not for you to worry about, Heng. She's my PLP. I'll take this to my car," Without a further glance back, he sped along out the terminal, leaving Mika bewildered, and Heng, judging from the tightness of his jaw, slightly irritated.
"Um," Mika squeaked as she and Heng strove to catch up with Raizo. "Like, what's a PLP?"
He shot her a quizzical sidelong glance as he strode beside her. "That's his pet name for you. He says you always get in over your head. That you're his Pretty Little Problem,"
A/N: I'm a douche. I'm sorry. Bad few months for me. Was the PLP too corny? I'll cut it out from future use if it was.
I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, guys. Trust me, your positive reviews was the only thing that has kept me going lately. Now that I'm not working or going to school for the summer, I promise I will update regularly for you – so the next update in two weeks. Tweet me at farahtales if I get lazy.
I want to push this out as fast as possible, so I won't respond to any reviews here. I'll return reviews with PMs for signed in reviewers, and for the anonymous ones, I'll get to you next chapter.
Thanks for sticking around – I don't deserve you guys. And as always, drop a line.
