Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of DC.
A knock on the door pulls Mitsuhiko's attention away from his laptop, causing him to look up. "Who is it?" he asks, though he already has a pretty good sense of who it might be. Getting up out of his chair, he walks over to the entry of the hotel room and peers through the peephole. On the other side is Satou, looking rather disheveled, dressed in her standard business attire. Mitsuhiko immediately opens the door, then greets the inspector, "Good morning, Satou-keibu."
"Morning, Mitsuhiko-kun. Can I come in?" Satou asks.
Mitsuhiko nods, moves to the side and lets Satou in. He then promptly closes the door and rushes to the laptop sitting on the table. Pointing to it, he says, "I want to show you something."
"Right, you mentioned you figured out something on the phone, about that murder case," Satou says, peering over Mitsuhiko's shoulder at the computer screen. On it is what looks like a case file. "This is-?" Satou asks.
"Information about a murder that happened two weeks ago, in the Gunma Prefecture," Mitsuhiko replies.
"I see, but what does this murder have to do with anything?" Satou asks.
Mitsuhiko smiles, then scrolls the page down. "This, Satou-keibu," he says, stopping at a rather blurry image. "Forensic techs took a picture of it while they were photographing the scene. The case detective at the time didn't think anything of it since it was just in normal ink. He thought it might have been graffiti from some kids or something. But given the murder in the alley-"
Leaning in, Satou takes a closer look at the image. Although the details were fuzzy, she makes out several distinct digits, a realization that causes her to gasp with surprise. "Those numbers-!" she remarks, reading them aloud, "0-0-0-0-1-0-1-1. It's just like the numbers painted on the wall with blood!"
"Exactly," Mitsuhiko says, a wide smirk on his face.
"Why didn't our criminal database make the connection that these cases were similar?" Satou asks, stepping back as she ponders the numbers.
"Probably because the M.O.'s were completely different. The victimology was different, the type of weapon used was different, the locations were different and the previous digits weren't written in blood. In fact, except for the digits, it would have been impossible to say that the two cases were even related," Mitsuhiko replies.
"Then how did you figure it out?" Satou asks, giving Mitsuhiko a sly grin.
Mitsuhiko blushes and replies, "I remember reading about the case when it happened and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what the digits meant. But now that there are two sets, I have a much better idea."
"So, what do they mean, Mitsuhiko-kun?" Satou asks.
"It's binary," Mitsuhiko replies.
Holding a finger to his lips, Naku lets his eyes twinkle mischievously for a moment before he says, "Se-cr-et, Mr. Janitor. Or should I say, Kuroba Kaito." And just like he had been instructed, Naku lets the words hang in the air, watching for the man's reaction. The man, middle-aged with short, clean-cut hair, allows a surprised reaction to escape him, if only for a second, before his expression returns to normal- a bemused smile which hides fangs underneath.
With the same expression on his face, the man looks at Naku and says, "I'm surprised." The man then pauses, putting a hand on his hip as he too lets his words hang in the air. And for a period of time, the alley becomes silent, just two men each staring at the other. Naku, though, recognizes that it is much more than an ordinary staring contest- it is a battle of wills. The man was clearly raising the tension of the situation, hoping to goad a response, a signal of weakness. Naku struggles to keep his breathing in check, his muscles relaxed, focusing his mind on the mission he was assigned, the words Wolf had given him. And for a while, it works, with neither side giving an inch. The man's presence proves to be too much in the end, however, and Naku too inexperienced, as he involuntarily shifts his weight, trying to dispel his body's unease. As soon as he does it, Naku curses himself silently, realizing that he had lost the battle. The man too instantly notices, a smug grin crossing his face. Finally, he puts his hand down, back by his side, deciding to finish his sentence. "I'm surprised," he says, picking up from where he had left off, "Not many people know that I'm The Janitor, well, at least, not anymore."
At that, Naku smirks, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. "It's not really that strange," he replies, shrugging casually, "considering you kill everyone who finds out."
"Yes," the man says, raising an eyebrow. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between Naku and himself. Naku registers that it is about ten feet.
Two seconds, he thinks silently. He'd have about two seconds to maneuver if the man lunged at him. Looking ahead warily, Naku realizes that the man is still speaking.
"I suppose you're right," the man says, ever closing the distance.
Nine feet.
"But that does beg the question-"
Eight feet.
"How do you know?"
Seven feet.
"Okami-sama told me," Naku replies, almost without thinking. Instead, he is focused solely on the closing gap between the man and himself, watching for the slightest sign that the man might attack. The man, though, does not seem interested in such things, rather trying to keep the conversation going instead.
"Okami-sama again, huh?" he wonders aloud. Then turning to Naku, the man says, "This Okami-sama, he sure does know a lot, doesn't he?"
Naku nods slowly. "Okami-sama knows everything," he replies confidently.
"Everything?" the man asks, a laugh escaping his lips. Then with a much more serious expression, he adds, "And yet he didn't know where I would be."
Upon hearing the man's words, Naku finds himself annoyed, a state which shows on his face. "What do you mean?" he asks, not happy that anyone would challenge his master's intellect.
"It's a simple deduction, kid," the man replies, "You were so eager to tell me about your Okami-sama at every turn, except when I asked you about the source that told you I would be here. If the source had been this Okami-sama, you would have been kicking and screaming to tell me. But given that all you gave me was radio silence, it's not hard to figure out that it must be a third party. My guess is that there is another person involved in your information network, but you were explicitly instructed not to reveal who. So, tell me, kid, am I close?"
"I-" Naku hesitates, unsure how to respond. Wolf hadn't given him any instructions for this type of outcome. And in the split second of indecision, Naku lets his guard down, an opportunity which does not escape the man's notice. Instantly, the man dashes forward, closing the distance between Naku and himself. Then in a flash, he has his forearm thrust against Naku's trachea, pushing the boy backwards. Naku almost immediately loses his footing, crashing roughly against the alley wall, pinned between bricks and the man's arm. And though he thrashes wildly, Naku finds that he cannot break the hold to free himself. He even tries to pry the man's arm off, but it is as strong as steel- unbudging.
"Now," the man says as he slowly lets his arm sink into Naku's throat, "shall we have a little chat, kid?"
Naku feels his entire body being slid up against the wall, his feet gradually lifting from the ground. That, in turn, also increases the pressure on his windpipes, which are beginning to let less and less air through. Naku feels himself slowly suffocating, floating stars forming in his field of view. His eyes begin to roll back into his head and it is not long before the world begins to grow dark.
"I'm tell you, there's something larger at play here!" one of the agents says, hitting the table to emphasize her point. The outburst causes Jodie to glance over; she notices that it is the agent from the Brazilian Intelligence Agency. "Why else would someone who's never even been seen so blatantly show his face to all the intelligence agencies in the world?" the Brazilian agent asks.
"No one is disagreeing with you, Vitoria," a different agent, a man, replies, evidently trying to keep the meeting under control, "We're just trying to catch everyone up to speed first." At that, Vitoria sighs, dropping back into her chair, arms folded across her chest, evidently frustrated, a sentiment that Jodie could sympathize with. Not that she wasn't for intelligence sharing, but there was something distinctly...inactive about their current course action. Jodie wonders for a moment if she might slip out and do some investigating on her own, but a stern look from Camel reminds her to pay attention, that they were representing the entire FBI and not just themselves.
With a sigh, Jodie turns to the little gathering of agents, about ten in total, and asks, "This...Ignotis, how do we know that this is him at all?" For a moment, she recalls what the French agent had said during the initial briefing, about no one having ever seen the suspect in question before.
"INTERPOL seems to have strong enough reason to believe it's him. We'll just have to trust their intel," the same man from before replies.
"Trust? That's not a word often used in the intelligence community," a different man replies. Looking over, Jodie notices that it is a British fellow and before anyone can interrupt him, he continues. "More to the point, I agree with Agent Jodie here," he says, glancing Jodie's way, "The man in the image, if you can even call him that, looked to be no more than eighteen. Now, I'm not a mathematician or anything, but MI6 has records of crimes linked to Ignotis dating back almost ten years. Are you telling me that a eight year old was going around committing acts of international terrorism during recess?" Several nods and silent assents from the other agents show that many in the room have similar doubts. Of course, it is the first agent from before, Luke - an agent from Canada- who replies, trying to quell the uncertainties.
"INTERPOL said-" he begins, but this time, he is cut off.
"INTERPOL has said what they want us to know. But it's obvious that their holding back," the Brit replies, "And for that matter, why aren't they in here with us?"
"Yeah," mutters several agents in the room, Jodie included.
"I'm sure there's a good reason," Luke answers, but that does not seem to satisfy the Brit.
"What reason could there be? Didn't they say this was a matter of utmost urgency?" the Brit asks, "Why else would they have called us all here in the middle of the night?"
An echo of yeah's again reverberates through the room, this time a bit louder. It becomes clear that the meeting is beginning to break down, with each agent growing rather restless with the situation. Just before an all out shouting contest erupts, however, the tension is abruptly defused.
"Hey, I need to use the toilet," Camel suddenly says, drawing the attention of all in the room, "How about we take a five minute break first?" His one question seems to stop the momentum of the conversation, causing everyone to calm down a bit. Luke looks over and nods.
"I think that'll be a good idea," he says, and with that Camel gets out his chair and walks to the restroom.
The bathroom break is rather unexciting, with Camel using the toilet and washing his hands after he finishes his business. On the way back, however, something unexpected happens. Just as he is leaving the restroom, he bumps into someone who is coming in, nearly knocking the other man over. Bowing his head, Camel quickly apologizes, his habits from working in Japan still lingering.
"No worries," the other man replies, greeting Camel with a wry grin as Camel lifts his head. That's when Camel gets the first good look at the other man: about five-eleven in height, very light brown hair with a pinkish hue, and dark green eyes. And for a moment, Camel finds himself staring rudely, struck by a sudden feeling of nostalgia.
"Have we-?" Camel begins to say, but lets the words drop from his mouth.
"I'm sorry?" the man asks, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"Ah, never mind," Camel quickly says with a shake of his head, "Have a good day." Then with that, he turns to leave, heading back to the conference room from before. Behind, he hears the man say, "You too," but he does not know what happens to the man afterwards. Even with the man out of sight however, his image lingers in Camel's head, nibbling on the edge of his mind. There's something familiar...Camel thinks, and so lost is he in his own thoughts that he nearly crashes into Jodie in the hall, managing to stop himself just before he plowed her over.
"Hey, I was looking for you. Meeting's starting soon," Jodie says, giving Camel a perplexed glance. "Is something wrong? You seem distracted," she asks.
Camel just shakes his head. "It's nothing," he replies.
"Ah, is that so?" Jodie says, not sounding convinced. She then reaches a hand over and plucks something off the collar of Camel's shirt. "A hair," she says, holding her hand up, "Maybe you should get one of those static removers."
"Let me see that," Camel suddenly demands, startling Jodie a bit with the abruptness of his request.
"Uh, here," she says, handing the hair over. Camel takes it in hand, then holds it up to the light. For the most part, the hair is light brown, bordering pink, except for the root.
It was black.
Opening her eyes, Ayumi realizes that she is lying on the ground, her face pressed against the cold asphalt. And undoubtedly, the small pebbles scattered around have made quite the impression on her skin, but her appearance is perhaps the furthest thing on her mind at the moment. Scanning around, Ayumi tries to decipher her surroundings; her hazy vision makes the task much harder than normal though. "What-?" she mumbles, using her arms to prop herself into a sitting position, the daze of unconsciousness still lingering in her mind. That's when she notices the two men several feet away, a sight which instantly gets her adrenaline rushing. In a flash, her mind clears, the events of the past flooding into her head. I was following him, she thinks as she sees one of the two men, the boy that had bought all the souvenirs, pinned against the wall by some man she had never seen before. I was following him and...he disappeared...and ...Ayumi stops herself, her mind reaching a blank.
Just then, like a switch that had been flipped, her fight or flight response kicks in, her body telling her that it was no time to be asking question. Without looking back, Ayumi stands up and begins to bolt out the alley, or rather, half limp, half drag herself out, as she quickly discovers that her legs are not being as cooperative as she would have liked. She travels a good distance, almost around the bend out of the alley, but then makes a fatal mistake. Unable to resist, she peers over her shoulder to see what had become of the struggle between the two men. To her surprise, the tables seemed to have turned, with the boy now standing upright, the man incapacitated at his feet. Of course, the mistake Ayumi makes is that she should have never looked back, as when she looked backwards, she was not looking forwards. Without warning, her motion is suddenly halted as she smashes into something, into someone. Turning around, she feels a momentary relief, thinking that she might ask the stranger for help. The smile on the man's face informs her otherwise, however, but before she is able to fully register the danger, she feels the man grab her, followed by a quick punch to the gut. Instantly, Ayumi feels the wind knocked out of her; her eyes slowly shut as consciousness escapes her. Just before the world goes dark, she hears a patter of footsteps from behind, followed by an exclamation, "Bourbon!"
Then, nothing.
