chapter eleven: liar
Manx didn't know how or why it happened – it just did, and the only thing that concerned her at the moment was to get the hell out of there. She hid behind a thick pillar, clutching the folders to her chest. Gunshots reverberated around as suited men ran past, urgently calling out to one another. Manx closed her eyes, took a deep breath and held it. The footsteps traveled farther away, slowly fading into echoes as the men chased their supposed target out of the underground parking lot.
It was then Manx let out her breath and took out her cell phone. She dialed the number without looking, placing the phone to her ear with apprehension. With the other hand, she took two papers from the folder and stuffed them in the front of her shirt.
"Manx."
"Persia," she said, "Code blue."
There was silence on the other line. Manx peeked around the corner, making sure that she was indeed in the clear, before she darted to the car. She swiftly started it and backed out of the parking space, the phone still attached to her ear. She could hear Persia's breathing, hear his mind work out the details as she drove. The exit approached; just as she revved the engine, the men ran back in.
It was only their split-second hesitation that saved her life. They stared at the moving vehicle, stared at it as it neared, and at the last minute they opened rapid fire. Manx, however, had already thrown herself from the car, crawling to safety behind a large van. It was a miracle that she still had her phone, the papers and her handbag, having crawled to safety without being seen.
A moment passed, and smoke filtered the air. "Remove the vehicle from the premises and check perimeters," one man called, and Manx felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She closed the connection with Persia, who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. Her fingers moved quickly, passing over buttons as her eyes darted left and right. Footsteps neared. Her thumb hit the 'send' button, and the SMS traveled from her phone to Persia's.
Then, without a moment's hesitation, she pulled out her gun from handbag and slammed the butt of it onto the phone. It cracked. The men heard the noise, hurrying to her location; she repeated the process. The phone flew into little pieces, and she slid one part across the floor.
One of the suits spotted it and stooped low to retrieve it. Big mistake, Manx mused, and she looked away as a bright flash filled the parking lot. The men shouted, digging in their pockets for sunglasses, eye drops, anything; Manx held her breath and took a chance, one hand over her chest as she sprung into action. The secretary slipped off her heels and darted towards the exit, her socked feet sliding and slipping against the ground. Abruptly the sound of gunshots exploded behind her; she didn't look back. She didn't want to face the mess she created.
Just as she reached the exit, Youji pulled up in his Seven. Ken was wiggling his way in the back, making room for her in the front; wordlessly she climbed it.
"She's getting away!" one distinct shout echoed, and the rest followed after, shooting randomly. Youji tsked, flooring the accelerator; they were free. Manx closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest, a sigh escaping from her lips. Ken was anxious, fidgeting to ask questions, but he held them in at Youji's stern glare.
"How did you know to come and get me?"
"Birman called. She knew I just couldn't leave a beautiful lady in distress."
"Where are you going now, Manx?" Ken ignored the look Youji gave him, focusing instead on the weary woman.
"The shop. There's someone I need to talk to."
There was another look exchanged, this time more solemn; Ken tried to shrug off the uneasy feeling on his shoulders. Rei's frantic disposition and Manx's sudden situation couldn't have just been mere coincidence on the same day. It all had to add up to something. The ex-soccer player leaned back in his seat, biting his thumb. The missing friend, and a failed mission... What did it all add up to?
"Manx, what was your mission...?"
The red-head's lips tightened as she stared out at the passing scenery. Moments passed as Youji drove on, not daring to reprimand Ken – he himself had wanted to know, wanted to puzzle together the loose pieces.
Then, "The prime minister is dead. Parliament has already voted a new leader."
Youji drove a little faster.
xxx
"I traced the call to a café in Minato," Omi said, and Rei lunged at him, grabbing a fistful of his sleeve as she glared into the screen.
"Minato? That's..." She trailed off, staring at the letters on the screen. There, highlighted in yellow and standing out from the rest, was the name of the café. She felt her stomach flip as she silently mouthed the word.
"What is it?" Aya briskly asked, impatient. He straightened up from his lean against the wall, but stayed where he was as Rei turned to face him.
"It came from Crown Fruit Parlor."
She fell silent as she turned back to the computer screen. Omi saw that, although her face was quite stoic, the urgency showed clear in her eyes. She was struggling to stay composed. He found it admirable; if he were put in that situation... If, instead of her friend, it had been Ouka - or Ken, Youji, Aya - if any one of them had been taken, if their lives had been threatened, he would've acted. He would've found the offender and utilized his training ruthlessly. It would've been instinct, pure adrenaline that would've fueled his actions.
She took in a breath, and he realized then that he recognized her fierce look. For the longest of moments he'd attributed it to Aya – those eyes were the same shade, with the same depth and feeling – but he'd seen them elsewhere. Marine Cathedral. She was the red one. The one that had ran off and disappeared. The one that was so angry, juggling and dancing with flames. She was –
"Rei," Omi said, and he got a full blast of those eyes when she turned to him.
She was the one Kumada Yuuichirou had held so dear. It had to be only her.
A breathless silence filled the room; Aya watched the tension between the two. She was still hanging onto his shirt, and her grip only tightened when Omi uttered her name. There was something – this boy, she knew who he was. She'd seen him before – before Weiss, before Minako, before the flower shop. Before anything life-changing had happened.
Rei loosened her hold and let her arm fall to her side. "Omi," she said slowly, "you..."
"Why did you come to us?" Aya interrupted. She wasn't the one that had the right to question. She came to them, forcibly asked them for help, and she hadn't explained a single thing. What did she have anything to do with everything? Minako, as big as her mouth was, knew how to keep private life and private business apart. They had settled this months ago.
He didn't miss the fleetingly uneasy look on her face. Rei composed herself, steadying the shaking hand. Omi was still watching her, still looking perplexed and still puzzling the pieces together.
"Because you're –"
It was at that moment, before anyone could react, that the door flew open and in strode Manx, pulling papers from the front of her shirt and thrusting them at Omi.
"Fax to Birman ASAP," she said, and Omi complied wordlessly. The red-head turned to Rei, taking the younger woman by the shoulders and shaking her head. "Your father plays dirty."
"What?"
"Aya," Manx commanded, "call everyone else in."
In a somewhat sulky manner, Aya tossed her the remote before ducking out of the door. Manx clicked on the television set, her hand still on Rei's shoulder. "Watch. It will come on soon."
Omi stepped back from the computer, moving to get a good view of the screen. Five minutes passed – Aya still wasn't back with the others. He opened his mouth to make that remark, when suddenly the news blared to life with an emergency broadcast.
"This just in – the Prime Minister has recently just – passed away? What? Is this right?" The anchorman was bewildered, glancing off to the side at his coworkers. "This can't possibly be right – I'm sorry," he apologized to the viewers, "a moment please." He was getting up now, appearing off screen; the co-anchorwoman fidgeted in her seat, looking on with unease.
A moment passed, and the reporter came back in, pale and stricken with grief. "This just in – the Prime Minister has passed away in his home around 9:36 this morning. He was found at his desk. Investigation is under way. While there isn't any physical evidence of foul play, police are on the lookout for the first assistant, Kaidou –"
Rei had turned on her heel, and tore the door open. "Minato, you said?"
Omi numbly nodded, his eyes still fixed on the television.
She was out of the room. As soon as the door shut at Rei's heels, Manx let out a sigh and dipped her head into her hands. The mission had gone horribly, horribly wrong. The prime minister – dead. The only suspect – missing. It had been a simple undercover mission – go in, get papers, get out. Never in a million years would she have expected something so revolutionary.
"Manx," Omi softly asked, watching as a special broadcast came up to cover the circumstances of the death. He saw his uncle, Takatori Shuuichi, standing off to the side of the crowd, but looking quite comfortable in the presence of cameras. It was an emergency press conference, addressed by the head of the National Police Agency. Funny how, amidst all the chaos, his uncle seemed so charismatic. It was he whom his eyes were drawn to – not the NPA head, but instead the figure standing still next to a cluster of cameras and microphones. Was it the Takatori blood that made him so compelling? Omi frowned. Was it that lifestyle he would soon come to know?
"We just saw the broadcast," interrupted a hesitant voice at the door. Ken, followed by the rest of Kritiker-hired agents, sidled in, but he was the only one who could bring himself to speak. "What happened? What you said… it's really true?"
Manx paused. Then she steeled her gaze and straightened her shoulders. If there anything she could do, it would be to remain collected. Persia wouldn't have expected any more out of her. "My mission was simple undercover work. I was to retrieve documents on Esset from the Prime Minister's personal office, which was successfully completed."
"How?"
"He gave them to me." Manx glanced at the perplexed look on Minako's face. "I simply asked, and he gave them to me. Then he took a drink of his tea, had a seizure, and fell over. I don't know what happened, but I got out of there as fast as I could. When you arrived – Ken, Youji – his men were on the assumption that I had killed him."
She glanced at every face, measuring them. They all took to this news in different ways – Mizuno Ami, for example, was calculating. Manx didn't need to ask. She could see the wheels moving, the thoughts ticking. It was in the way the doctor bit her lips, folded her arms, and furrowed her brow. Minako, on the other hand, was utterly baffled. That much was evident in the way she glanced from Aya to Omi, as if either of the two could prove Manx's words to be true. Makoto seemed to be the one trying to reason with herself. She was assuring herself that something would be done, that something could be done.
Youji seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as he slowly lit up a cigarette. Manx could judge by Aya's annoyed glance at him that the red-head was hardly affected. All that meant to him was a bigger death toll on Takatori's head. She frowned the slightest; his thirst for vengeance was, at times, frightening. And then there was Ken, with his trembling form and clenched fists. He always had been the rash one, the ready-to-fight kind of guy.
Manx decided then that she didn't like examining the people that worked under her. She glanced briefly at Omi – young, wide-eyed Omi, child-like in appearance but wise beyond his years. He met her gaze steadily, with a small smile at his lips. That one look, that little grin, was all she needed.
"Mizuno, I want you to get on scene. Be present at the autopsy and report back right after."
"I was just about to request permission to do so," the young woman responded. With a light touch at Minako's shoulder and a nod to Makoto, she was out the door.
"Omi, get footage from the security cameras. We're looking from 7:00AM to 10:00AM." Manx swiftly turned to Makoto next. "Contact Botan. Tell him to leave his post and to return back to Japan immediately. Find Birman and stick with procedure."
"Right," Makoto said, nodding her head as Omi slid his keyboard into his lap. As she made her exit, the rest of Weiss waited for their orders.
"Youji, Aya, Ken. Minako. Stay put."
And with that, she disappeared into the kitchen to make some coffee. Hell, she needed it.
xxx
Schuldig couldn't see the future, but he didn't need to have clairvoyance to know who it was that threw the door open and rushed up the stairs. It was a matter of process of elimination – Farfarello was locked up in his straightjacket. And although Schuldig wouldn't put it past him to somehow get out of the restraint and break out of the room, it was highly unlikely. The Irishman knew enough to stay where he was.
Crawford never slammed doors; that was self-explanatory.
It could have been the kid – but then again, the kid was stuck at school. There was the possibility that Nagi had finally had enough, blown up all the pieces of chalk in a fit of rage, and stormed his way back home. Schuldig easily dismissed that thought; everyone knew how much the kid practically worshipped Crawford; there was no way he'd do something to mess anything up.
That left the girl, and he sighed as he swung his legs down from the couch. He could hear her slam another door shut and tear open closets. Her footsteps were frantic, pitter pattering through the ceiling. Schuldig frowned, ascending up the stairs; he mentally probed her mind in preparation.
Then, "Oh shit."
Oh shit because Kaidou had acted in advanced.
Oh shit because their trump card – the princess and her prince – had been stolen from them.
Oh shit because Crawford probably already knew it was going to happen but didn't tell any of them – which meant that Nagi was going to feel disowned, and that Farfarello would sulk over the fact that he missed an opportunity to kill.
Schuldig redid the bandana in his hair as he nudged the door to the room open with his foot. He found Rei standing in the middle, staring blankly at the pristine white walls. Ah, yes. Crawford's room. Crawford's lifeless, dull room. Schuldig stuck his hands in his pockets, a frown puckering his lips. "Yo."
"Where's – he?"
She was watching the clock by the bed. The second-hand ticked on, and she couldn't tear her eyes away.
"At a business meeting."
"I have to talk to him."
Why was his room so barren?
"Don't we all?"
He blinked as her hands were suddenly on his shoulders, her violet eyes glaring into his. "Schuldig," she said evenly, despite the trembling of her hands, "I need help."
He wasn't going to let himself get lost in that ocean. No way. He knew better than that.
"Please."
"My help?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes, but not moving otherwise. "Why don't you just ask the kittens again?"
He should've been angrier. He should've been furious, given his infamous temper around the house. He felt it boiling deep inside him, the rage building up. Looking into those eyes, feeling those hands clenched on his shoulders – he wanted to throw her off, tell her to deal with it herself. But Crawford – damn Crawford and his plots that couldn't be thrown off course.
Her lips tightened and she broke off, throwing her attention over his shoulder. "Maybe I will," she all but hissed, and he grabbed her arm roughly once more.
"Don't."
It was only a truth Schwarz never betrayed each other.
Her cheeks colored – from anger? embarrassment? he couldn't tell – and she glared at him. "Let go of me."
You won't go to Weiss.
"Let go of me!"
You won't.
"You can't – don't try to –!"
Don't.
Rei fell silent, glancing away, her eyes moving from the bed to the closet to the door. Anywhere but at him. Schuldig dully noted that yes, his persuasive manipulation seemed to be working. He could force her to stay if he wanted, make her feel like she was tired or lazy. But forcing wasn't nearly as fun as persuading; the subject would be convinced it was their own actions, not someone else's. And when they found out that they were at the will of another – well. That's when it was entertaining for him.
Schuldig was good as guilty.
Rei shook her head, slowly pulling her arm away. She still wasn't looking at him, and for a moment looked like she was going to collapse – under stress? But then, with her jaw set, she shook her head again. "Sorry. I'm going."
And before he could catch her (who was he kidding? he could've gone after her, could've pulled her back and made her stay, but he didn't want to), she had flown out the door.
"Oh shit," he said to the empty room.
Because that meant calling Crawford. And calling Crawford usually ended up in another job, which meant letting Farfarello free. Usually the prospect would enlighten him, but he knew that job would be to cover the girl's ass before she did any real damage.
"Shit," Schuldig repeated as he dialed Crawford's number.
Life suddenly became a new level of complicated.
xxx
Youji retreated to his room, faintly annoyed but not really too worked up about it to actually do something. As much as he loved Manx – as much as he loved her legs and those heels and that hair – she had a stick right up her butt, and he didn't want to be around to be on the receiving end of her hissy fit. Yeah, okay. So the big PM was dead.
It wasn't like they really cared.
As he lit his cigarette, he sighed. Yeah, he knew he should care. After all, he was the man that pulled the strings in Japan. Duh. But compared to what he did every night, it was just another homicide. Something thrown into a file, only to be dug up and finished later. He spent his nights scouring streets for 'dark beasts,' while the prime minister turned a blind eye to everything. He spent the nights ending lives – saving them? – while the prime minister instead focused on the media. He spent the nights tormented by demons, while the prime minister slept like a baby next to his wife.
Good riddance, was what he'd wanted to say when he saw the news.
Some days, Youji wanted to just stay in the flower shop. Flirt with the roses, get some numbers, drink coffee and watch TV. He wanted to relax, close his eyes and not be haunted by the images of wires and blood and Asuka and bullets. He'd given up sleep long ago, deciding to drown his sorrows in the company of women. Sometimes it worked. And sometimes it didn't.
Tapping his cigarette on the ash tray, Youji moved towards the closet. He pulled off his shirt and discarded it there. Might as well get at least some kind of shut-eye. He found naps at daytime to be more satisfying than at night; the sunlight fought off any images the dark might have produced.
Lying down on his bed, the lanky man stretched and rolled onto his side. All this prime minister business was really wearing him out. He could see it in his teammates, too – Omi was shut-off, distant and focused completely on the task at hand. He was reviewing every minute, every second, of the security footage. It was almost obsessive, and it unnerved Youji to watch. Omi had never been like this before – it was as if he were trying to prove something.
Then again, the kid always was an overachiever. Youji sighed; what had Kritiker done to him? To all of them?
The door to his room interrupted his flow of thought, opening without a knock, and Youji sat up, on guard. He relaxed a bit and blinked when he saw it was Minako, who closed the door shut behind her and locked it. Wordlessly, she pushed him back onto the bed, taking the ribbon out of her hair and shaking it out.
"Minako –"
She fought off his words with her lips, dipped her body into his, and together they forgot.
xxx
Nagi somehow found himself walking home with Hotaru.
It hadn't been intentional; she had bumped into him after hurrying her way somewhere. She'd almost gone her own way, but after a second thought decided to follow his path. She was avoiding something; her phone kept going off, but instead of answering, she muted it every single time. She was currently biting her thumb nail, deep in thought, but still managing to trace his footsteps perfectly.
He wasn't going to ask her what she was doing. They weren't enemies, but they weren't allies either.
"Naoe," Hotaru said quietly, and he stopped, turning around. She was a good three meters or so behind him – why didn't he notice that she'd stopped? "I need to speak with Crawford."
Nagi felt a little something spark in him. He shrugged listlessly, although his eyes watched her – watched her check her phone for a quick second before putting it away in her bag. Who was calling her? And why didn't she just turn it off instead of muting it? Hotaru was biting her thumb again, looking almost anxious.
"Please."
He realized that little something was annoyance. Because no, he didn't want to take her to Crawford – Crawford was theirs,Crawford belonged to Schwarz. He knew all about the meetings between their Crawford and her guardians; he knew that they were involving him more and more in matters that didn't even pertain to Esset.
The phone beeped once more, and Hotaru pulled it out again. Nagi fought against the urge to crush it into pieces with his mind, and only succeeded in quelling the thought when she answered.
"Yes."
He saw her pale (a feat in itself, considering her complexion was already an unhealthy white) at the caller's words. She was staring at him, right into his eyes, down to his soul; he felt naked, despite his uniform and the coat. She was seeing every part of him and not even paying attention to what she was finding, focused completely on the caller yet immersed in his being.
"I understand," she said softly. And after she closed her phone, she took his hand in hers. "Naoe, you might never have done this before, but I'm asking you to bring me somewhere."
She was touching him. He didn't like it. "What do you mean?"
Hotaru smiled lightly, despite the unease in her eyes. "You're a telekinetic – you can move things, but it goes deeper than that - molecular control. You could, for example, control the weather. Make lightning strike wherever. Or you could even move instantaneously from one spot to another."
It was dawning on him. Nagi stared into her eyes. Was she crazy?
"In other words, teleport."
xxx
The taxi putted off as Rei stepped to the curb, looking up at the sign hanging above the awning of the shop. Crown Fruit Parlor. The place still looked the same – the paint was still bright, the windows still clear and polished. If she had gone back through time, reversed a couple of years, she would've seen Unazuki sliding parfaits down the counter and Motoki laughing with a couple of customers. She would've seen a gaggle of girls gossiping in a booth by the window, empty glasses with straws in them scattered about. She would've seen one of the girls cry for a second drink while another reminded her that her allowance had already been spent. She would've seen the two get into a heated argument, only to be quelled when Motoki offered them a second round on the house.
A burning sensation flared at the memory, and Rei yanked the door open.
It was deserted inside.
Clenching her hand into a fist, she made her way through the empty café. Dust littered the area, covering every spot there was available – it was as if no one had been in here in ages. But hadn't Omi said the call was made from the very place she was standing? He would've told her if it were outside of Crown Fruit Parlor – but that blinking dot had been traced to inside. To a booth by the window.
To the booth where she, Minako, Makoto, Ami and Usagi had always sat in.
Rei slammed her hands down on the table, sending a spray of dust to parade in the air. It didn't make sense – this had to be the spot. It was the spot. Was she overlooking something? An unknown variable affecting the equation? But what? What else could there possibly be?
It was getting hard to breathe; the air was stuffy, the heat uncomfortable. Rei stood up, her hands at the edge of the booth – and paused. Something was taped under there. She snatched it fervently, clasping her hand around it. Her finger brushed against a button; a voice started speaking from the small black box.
It was a tape recorder.
"Hi, Rei," the voice said. There was a pause as the person cleared his throat "Well, um. I guess you've found some really good people to ally yourself with, if you found this.
"I'm really sorry. For everything."
She recognized that voice.
"Um. Well, I did end up getting married. After we... said our goodbyes. Your father was at the wedding. And, well. I was surprised that you weren't either." He cleared his throat again, obviously uncomfortable. "I know you were angry that I left like that. But I just thought that maybe... You still would've been there."
She didn't even know about the wedding. Rei slowly sank back into the booth, dust crawling over her skin.
"I've been promoted. Several times. I'm direct assistant to the prime minister now. Your father helped me along the way. I should be grateful, but I can't be. Not after he made me leave you."
No. She shook her head. Her father didn't make him do anything.
"There's a… plot going on. This is a warning for you. To you." The voice grew stronger. "Although I'm working closely with the prime minister, in the end, I'm still connected to your father. It's not something that I can prevent – politics is dirty."
Then why was he still a part of it all?
"Rei... Soon your world will turn upside down. This tape is the just the start of it. I've been keeping track of you – more specifically, who you're associated with now. I'm sorry that you had to fall into such a tainted world – but you haven't even scratched the surface yet. People will be out for your blood. They know how important you are – to your father, to Esset, to Japan. They know you can change the world. Be careful.
"I don't know when you'll hear this tape. Maybe I'll be dead; maybe I'll still be in hiding. Most likely it will be the former. If you can, I'd like to ask you for a favor. I know I'm not in the position to do so, but I'm begging. Please tell the Furuhata family that I'm sorry for their loss – that it was something that could not have been deterred. As for Tsukino Usagi – if it isn't too late, she will be underground the headquarters of the Prime Minister's office."
There was a long silence, in which both Rei and the man in the tape recorder were suffocating.
"Rei. It would have been nice to see you again. Looking into your eyes always gave me life. If I could... If I could turn back time, somehow. I would have stayed with you for a moment longer. I would never have let go as quickly as I did."
In the background, there was a shuffling of papers.
"About Mamoru. He is not dead, and there are claws that are eager to grab onto him."
Her breath hitched. Her youngest brother, still alive?
"You are a butterfly, Rei, and your wings can either save lives or destroy them.
"It's just a pity that in my case, it was the latter."
The tape recorder clicked, and Kaidou's voice faded into the stale air.
A second later, the recorder exploded.
notes
I LIED TO YOU GUYS SORRY I STILL LOVE YOU
the reason for the really horribly late update is because... this chapter never came out the way i wanted it to. it was really frustrating to try to get the right balance of action and suspense, while at the same time get all the info that i wanted to get out; what's posted here is the best of all the trials. i'm sorry if it doesn't meet standards (because i sure as hell am not satisfied), or if it raises more questions instead of answering them.
i hope the cliffhanger doesn't upset yall as much as it upsets me. :(
anywho, thank you for reading and sticking with it. i apologize for the nasty year months it took for me to update. the next part's gonna be loaded with action and angst – a little less melodrama and more nitty gritty.
thanks again for reading!
