Juubei dropped Kanou on the ground in a corner of the room. He landed with a thud, rolling over on one side, and lay there limply.
"Is he faking unconsciousness?" Makubex asked curiously without looking round, his fingers flickering over the multiple keyboards in front of him.
"No," Juubei answered, after a prod with a scientific toe. "I can wake him up if you want to question him, though."
"I'm not sure that he would say anything useful," Kazuki commented. He and Sakura supported Emishi over to a couch at one side, lowering him gently onto the cushions.
"Surely he must have seen something?" Makubex finished entering a string of commands, and lowered his hands. "Thank you, by the way. Thank you both very much."
Kazuki straightened, tossing his hair back. "It was our pleasure."
"But where is Toshiki?" Sakura asked softly as she began to clean Emishi's wounds.
Juubei felt his own face tighten into a frown, and he heard Kazuki stiffen -- a whisper of fabric, a shiver of bells. "He was captured," he said brusquely before his lord could answer. "We believe he was taken by Kagami Kyouji, which implies Babylon City."
"This is too well-timed to be at all coincidental." Makubex turned to face them, his face grimmer than should have been possible for his youth. "Everything happening at the same time; Toshiki kidnapped, the assault on my headquarters, the GetBackers going missing --"
"What?" Kazuki interrupted. "But --"
"I've lost them." Makubex raised both hands. "Hear me out. They were reported as going to intercept Doctor Jackal and Lady Poison. I have no active contact from them after that point, but I do," and he indicated one screen that was a mass of enlarged shadowy forms, "have a visual record of Doctor Jackal and three unidentified people entering Mugenjou half an hour ago. We're lucky I even have that."
Sakura looked up from the gently moaning Emishi. "Do you mean, Makubex, that the same computer malfunctions and viruses which crippled our defenses . . ."
Makubex nodded as she trailed off. "Exactly. The probability approaches zero that this could all be chance. Everything had been arranged."
"By Babylon City," Juubei said coldly. "Who else could interfere with your computers like this, Makubex?"
"Mm." Makubex did not attempt false modesty. "Exactly. So. We need to reach Babylon City --"
"Sakura and Emishi will remain here to guard you," Kazuki said swiftly, before either of them had the chance to protest or feel the pain of divided loyalty. "Juubei and I will go up past the Beltline."
Makubex bit his lip. "But when you tried last time . . ."
Kazuki cut him off again. "We simply did not have the impetus that we do this time. I will not be stopped."
"Yes, yes," Makubex said, spinning back to the computer. "By all means. But we also need to find where you can enter Babylon City. The Beltline is a maze, and the area beyond it probably worse. We need a way in."
"Can you find Kagami Kyoji's tracks?" Juubei suggested. "He had Toshiki with him. Even if they blanked out the cameras so that you could not see him, there may be a trail of malfunctions."
"That's a thought." Makubex's fingers were a rattling blur on the keyboard.
"Emishi!" Sakura said firmly. "Stay where you are."
"But, Sakura," Emishi protested, "there's an eagle at the window."
They all turned to look. An eagle was perched on the windowsill, staring in with a brooding gaze of half-insane intensity.
"And there's something tied to its leg," Emishi added helpfully.
---
They stepped out into a large room, wide and drafty as a barn, and Ban knew in his bones that this was where the trap had been prepared for them. Shafts of light tilted down from the ceiling from concealed skylights, piercing through the dusty air to chequer the floor with patches of light and shadow. At the end of the room a man hung from a spike in the wall, his hands bound above his head, the spike placed through the bindings to hold him in place. His eyes were closed. He did not attempt to call to them.
"Teshimine!" Ginji gasped, with an undernote of absolute fury to his voice that Ban recognised as Raitei's presence. Static crackled and spat as he started across the floor towards him.
"Wait," Ban said, grasping Ginji's shoulder. "He's bait."
Ginji took a deep breath. His muscles tensed under Ban's grip, then relaxed. "We can't leave him there," he said, his eyes burning.
"We won't. Just be careful." Ban held Ginji's shoulder a moment longer, then released him.
They stepped into the room together. Ban's eyes flicked from side to side. There were no signs of ambush, no waiting mob, no disguised assassins, no hidden guns, no sudden movements . . . He fell back, letting Ginji approach Teshimine as he turned to guard the other GetBacker's rear.
He thought he could hear Teshimine mumbling something, but couldn't quite make the words out.
A howl split the air, and Fudou Takuma was standing in one of the passageways, his coat blowing round him, a glint of absolute pure insanity in his visible eye. "Midou! MIDOUUU! At last! I'm going to tear you to pieces, Midou! I'm going to drink your blood . . ."
"I was getting tired of waiting," Ban muttered, and charged to meet him.
---
There was a note in Shido's handwriting and a CD in a package tied to the eagle's leg. The note read simply, Hevn gone enemy, attempted to burn Honky-Tonk, fled. Paul had this CD, left by Teshimine last year.
There was a single text file on the CD.
They read it silently, Sakura kneeling beside Makubex, Juubei and Kazuki supporting Emishi.
I was known as Gen. My name was important once. I hope that you would not know it now if you heard it.
If you read this, then I am dead.
I have entrusted this file to one of the few honourable people I know. I would have liked to give it to Makubex, but it would have been too dangerous for him. Are you reading this, Makubex? If so, I am sorry for all the things I could never tell you. But they were watching you more than anyone, my child. They of all people knew your capabilities.
Names may be caught by viral software, so instead of mentioning names, I will tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there were four people who studied power. One was an architect, one was a doctor, one was a specialist, and one -- well, let's call him a generalist. And they all lived together in the tower that the Architect built for them.
These four people had studied human potential and human religion. They'd noted that people are, at times, capable of achieving things far beyond their normal capacities. While they didn't all believe in the supernatural, they were prepared to accept that there were things which can't be categorised by current science. They wanted to channel and use that unknown potential.
Now, one of the occasions where this potential had been most effectively studied was in what is called voodoo.
(I can imagine that if some people are reading this, they will be very interested at this point.)
Let us assume, this Brains Trust (we need a name for them, don't we?) said, that this is an effective way of calling down the supernatural into a physical form. Perhaps the ceremonies and rites correspond to some unknown laws that we don't yet understand, the vevers are mental circuitry which we don't yet have the key to. If we can locate those keys, learn those laws, then we can use these "gods" rather than let them use us.
There was a preliminary attempt. It went wrong.
My child (I am sure you are reading this), it hurts to write about it even now. Whatever we may have come to since, once he was my friend, as close as a brother. He knowingly submitted himself to the rituals because he thought he could control them. But someone else looked out of his eyes when we had finished. The Watcher at the Crossroads was there. He was amused. He kept the body. He chose to leave us in peace, on the understanding that we would not move against him, but --
What the others saw as a temporary setback, the Architect saw as a warning. I said that we should go no further. I was . . . outvoted. In the absence of a fourth member (for that person had now gone to pursue his new interests) there were two of them and one of me, and, to be frank, they held power which I did not. I had already raised Mugenjou.
They no longer needed me.
Makubex, this is one of the great secrets of Mugenjou. It was raised as a tower that would bridge Earth and Heaven, that would allow power to be channelled down. But in the higher reaches of this Tower of Babel, there were dreams of flesh to match the dreams of power. The Specialist used the Doctor's research and created templates of flesh to match the virtual templates of personality that you already know about. If they could not conveniently invite the Powers into a volunteer, then they would build bodies for those Powers to inhabit, and build blank minds to overwrite their personalities, and build children who had the abilities to control those Powers and summon them. They would build . . .
. . . you understand, don't you?
There were failures. I will not discuss that.
By this time I had been exiled to lower Mugenjou, and I admit that it was partly voluntary. Here, I did not need to see the people whom I had once known as friends. I did not have to know what they were doing. They were glad to leave it that way.
The first successful child had his growth accelerated. He was reared in loyalty, obedience, honour. He still has all those things, but he cannot break the chains he grew up in.
Other children followed. The Marassa, the Jumeaux as they were called; one raised to operate outside Mugenjou, the other to work within it, but both of them bound to each other. A Thunder Emperor to provide the source power for the next attempt. A line of Voodoo Children to serve as hosts. Except that there were only two successful specimens (note how easy it is to write "specimens", Makubex, how easy it is to reduce human life to so little), and one of them ran away carrying the other in his arms.
I still don't know why they gave you to me, and Ren afterwards, but I have been grateful for that.
I have been lonely, you see.
The Specialist has made herself a new body. Cloned flesh, transferred engrams; this is the world she lives in. To be fair to her, it has never been for herself, but always for the knowledge that she gained. But nothing else has ever mattered to her. She would wade in blood to the knees and wash her hands in it without caring.
The Doctor -- is long gone.
The fourth man? Well. He is still there. He is more powerful than ever. By now you must realise who he is.
And if you read this, then I am dead. My last piece of courage, to leave this behind me as an explanation and an apology of sorts. I gave it to a person I know, who is honourable enough to see that it is left in safe keeping, though firmly enough bound that he will not take any action himself. I enjoy this little life that I still have; I do not want to do more. I do not want to die.
We built to reach Heaven, Makubex. I am not sure what scares me more; that we might have failed, or that they might succeed.
The silence in the room was broken by the bleeping of a monitor. Makubex hit a switch, turning to face it. The screen dissolved into the image of a hall full of people, the camera focus on a tall figure pushing her way through the mob, her blonde hair caught back under a headscarf, her breasts swinging as magnificently as ever.
Kazuki rose to his feet smoothly. "Juubei. With me, now," he commanded.
Makubex frowned. "Kazuki, surely --"
Kazuki shook his head. Bells whispered. "No, Makubex; this is our chance, now. If she's heading for Babylon City, and we can follow her, then we can enter as well. We'll stay in contact, but we must go now . . ."
Makubex nodded crisply. Behind him, Sakura rested a hand on his shoulder, and Emishi summoned up a battered grin. "Go," he said. "And good luck."
---
This time Fudou Takuma didn't bother with calling out the seconds or slowly ratcheting up the tension as he looked forward in time. No. This time he was going to rip Midou Ban to pieces first and then count off the seconds as he watched the other man die, as he listened to those last gasping breaths . . .
He was already looking two seconds ahead. It was a strain, but it was manageable. It was anticipation. It was watching the shifts in Midou's muscles, the twitches in his eyes, seeing the blur of will be overlaying now. And it was all here and now, it was true, Babylon City had finally given him what they promised.
He tasted his own blood in his mouth.
The first important thing
(we charge, we connect, we spin, we turn, we prepare for the next charge)
was to remember
(in the distance the Ginji boy is running towards the chained Teshimine and shouting something)
not to look in Midou's eyes.
(but the Ginji boy isn't important)
But that was the easiest thing in the world, because he'd be able to see that about to happen if it was
(Midou shouts an insult)
and it wasn't, in fact, what was about to happen was that they would charge again and Midou would scrape a blow along the side of his ribs and he'd allow it in order to get closer and carve a gash across Midou's chest
(they charge again and Midou scrapes a blow along the side of his ribs and he allows it in order to get closer and carve a gash across Midou's chest)
and there was blood on his claws now.
He hadn't even bothered to wear his gloves this time.
Midou tried to say something about Babylon City manipulating him and using him. Midou was even more stupid than usual. Fudou was aware that the people from Babylon City had healed him, upgraded his arm, and dangled Midou in front of him like bait on a hook in order to procure this fight, this beautiful, precious fight. He didn't care. As long as it went on, as long as he could feel Midou's blood hot and slick on the steel of his claws, it didn't matter.
(the Ginji boy was lifting Teshimine down from his chains)
Future became present and the moment when he was moving around Midou's strike became the moment when he was moving around Midou's strike and time was and time had been and time would be again and Midou was snarling and he was laughing, laughing.
"Three seconds!" he called. He wanted it now. He wanted the violence and the explosion of blood and having Midou downandbegging and he couldn't wait any longer.
Light haloed the two of them, exploding from the far end of the room and casting their shadows long and black against the wall.
"Ginji!" Midou screamed, and tried to duck past him, but he'd seen that
(was seeing it)
and he pounced like a tiger
(cut in, cut down)
and ripped across Midou's back, tearing the shirt away from his body, and blood spurted out, and Midou rolled away cursing, and he was finding it hard to breathe for some reason, ah, broken ribs, yes, he remembered seeing that Midou would break those ribs but it didn't matter, because Midou was bleeding and there was a great smear of blood across the floor, and
(light exploded)
light exploded across the room and threw the pair of them against the floor like rag dolls.
He struggled for focus, blinking against the whirl of brightness that still dazzled him. A man stood at its centre, a dark heart to the light.
There was a grunt from where Midou had been thrown, then slower breathing, unconsciousness. No. No, that couldn't happen. Midou was his. He knew each one of the other man's breaths, he could count his heartbeats, nobody could take Midou away from him, he would have Midou's blood . . .
"Sorry," the man in the light said. It was the Babylon City man, Masaki, the one who had been so happy to make bargains with him, to arrange to distract Midou while they took Ginji. "Time's up."
"Midou's mine," he growled, and tried to rise.
"No." There was a calm dispassion to Masaki's voice. "We don't need you any more, Fudou Takuma."
Fudou opened his eyes to the future again.
In three seconds he died. Time was. Time would be. Time was gone. That was all.
Three. Two.
"Midou," he tried to say, and then time ran out and future became present and there was light and then he was gone.
---