This story is a derivative fanwork written by GodandMen for the Toaru Majutsu no Index/とある魔術の禁書目録 franchise.
BAPTISM
I
-x-
Jim stared ominously at the machine.
His eyes wandered over the coin slot and traced the outline of the arrow-shaped sticker. It pointed upwards to a bigger opening. Just above the bigger slot were the words: "Notes below ¥10,000."
So…this is the power of science!
Here he was, within the famed Academy City, a city known for its major scientific advancements and technologies – a true paradise of science and intellect – looking suspiciously at a vending machine.
So…how is this supposed to work?
I put in a ¥1,000 note and it spits out coins?
The concept of vending machines accepting notes was very suspicious to him.
It's not that Jim had never seen vending machines before. In fact Sofia was absolutely littered with thousands of the damned things. And all of them served one thing: murky brown liquid that passed for "coffee"…but only if you had spent the night before drowning in vodka.
Still, those little buggers were very different from the one he was facing right now. After all, the coffee prices were a lot cheaper. On the other hand this thing, with its fancy digital letters and glowing lights, had the gall to tell him to trust it with a ¥10,000 note!
By his calculations that was equivalent to about $100.
One-hundred-effing-dollars!
Jim had great respect for the power of science and the wonderful, wonderful technological advancements mankind has achieved. But this was a bit too much. Never mind asking him to give up ¥10,000 he couldn't even trust it with the crumbled ¥1,000 note in his hand.
This was crossing the line!
He instinctively rubbed the metal locket on his neck for luck. No matter the situation, feeling the cool surface brushing against his fingertips had always calmed him.
Jim forlornly stared at the ¥1,000 note in his hand. His dry, parched throat begged for sweet release.
Jim didn't really have a choice.
He had only arrived in the city today so he did not have any coins on him. All he had were banknotes that withdrawn beforehand. Furthermore, the absolute urgency of the situation weighed heavily on him. The sun was going to set soon, and he still had not found his dorms.
If he did not get a canned drink from this exact vending machine right now, he may very well die of thirst that night!
Jim sighed heavily and gingerly inserted the crumbled banknote.
The machine whirred and buzzed with great vigor as it swallowed the note. Jim waited with bated breath…he waited and waited…and waited. The machine buzzed some more and then went deadly silent.
A cry of despair pierced the orange sky.
"Ow…"
The fingers on his left hand slowly and repeatedly unclenched themselves, trying in vain to shake off the aching pain. Another tired yawn came out as he slowly meandered along the silent street.
The sun had already set. And he was still no closer to his dorm.
With familiar despair, he unfolded his map again and looked over his chicken scratches.
Try as he might, he couldn't for the life of him find the fabled "Building E, 27th Street, District 14". What's with all these numbers and letters? He had looked over Academy City's entire map and all of the streets, locations were named with numbers and letters. None of them had any names.
Tsk tsk, such must be the scientific nature of Academy City!
Oh well, maybe he'll sleep on the street tonight. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. He seriously began to look around for a nice hole or a bench to spend the night.
He saw the picket team first.
There were two of them, one at each end of the street. Jim's eyes quickly caught sight of a black van with dark windows passing the adjacent intersection. As if on cue, the street lights began to flicker. He didn't need to look around to know that the street was deserted.
There was nobody around.
No witnesses.
Two alleyways, he noted mentally, both probably covered.
He was about halfway down the street to the next intersection. He had approximately fifty meters to go. Jim clutched his backpack closer to him and cracked his fingers. Well, at least he had a pocket knife in his bag.
But wait…they're too early.
The men did not seem to be in any hurry to get into position, even though Jim was almost out.
Could it be…?
A rapid train of thought raced through his mind.
Wait wait wait, maybe they're our guys!
Maybe I walked into a training exercise or something.
Or maybe it might be a prank they play on new guys.
He was now at the intersection, under the safety of the traffic light's security cameras. The men were still moving forwards. Jim saw the van taking a turn to be on the same side of the road as them.
Now they were getting into position.
But not for him.
Jim crossed the street before he finally understood the situation. He saw the target. Up ahead of him, there was a girl with light blonde hair standing motionlessly in front of a closed store.
One of the men walked past her to obtain confirmation before he stopped some distance away. The second man stopped some distance away as well, but in the opposite direction before reaching her. Both of them were in position to cut off her escape.
The van sped up.
Jim sighed.
So…what now?
Is he supposed to jump in like some sort of a superhero and save her? Somewhere close by there's definately a tactical team on standby in case things go south. Heck, they probably have an esper specialist with them. Or even a magician.
How is he supposed to fight them?
Anyways, he hadn't reported to his duty station yet, so technically he was still a civilian. His hands tighten on the straps of his backpack. He reached for his locket – for luck – but absentmindedly remembered that it was in the bag.
I don't wanaaa, he mentally moaned, I just want to sleep!
The van sped up and came to a screeching halt just beside the girl. She stood no chance as two men emerged in a flash and stabbed her neck with a syringe. The side doors closed with a whirl of motion and the vehicle picked up speed again, racing past the intersection's red lights.
Simple, clean, and effective.
The picket team looked around to check the surroundings before quickly disappearing into the alleyways.
Jim crept out from a crevice in the wall. He looked around as well, shrugged, and walked on.
"Who is he?"
She looked at the bright screen in front of her. She saw the kid materialize from the wall just as the picket team retreated. He was quite young, a boy really: no older than seventeen.
But the manner in which he moved, how his eyes checked the angles, how practiced and calm he seemed…he was no innocent teenager.
Have they been discovered?
She quickly went through the possibilities but ultimately decided against it. If the security services had their eyes on the team, they would not show their hand like this. In any case, the boy was a little too young to be a counterintelligence officer.
That meant…
"Likely a passerby, ma'am."
"No, he isn't. Does anyone have eyes on what's in his backpack?"
"…no, ma'am."
"The target could have teleported the package to him via magic. This can't be a coincidence."
She pointed at the other three men sitting beside her in the command van.
"Get his backpack. If he's just a bystander, rob him like you're common thugs. If he's not, capture him for questioning. Use your weapons at discretion."
Oh for fuck's sakes.
Seriously?
Jim saw them bounding up on him like a pack of vicious wolves. There was no pretense at all. He swore he could even see the bulge of their pistols beneath their black leather jackets.
He cursed himself for misreading how they would handle witnesses, even though he was pretty sure that the picket team didn't spot him. He just sighed and gave in to his luck; if Jim ran, then they would have extra incentive to hunt him down.
He must be involved in the operation!
Maybe he was the contact the target was waiting for!
The best he could do now is to act like a completely innocent bystander.
They surrounded him and demanded his backpack. Jim looked at them sourly and asked them if he could keep his credit card. There was a moment of hesitation as they considered this. Mentally Jim giggled at the absurdity of it.
Aren't you guys supposed to act like thugs or something?
What kind of a thug would let the victim keep his credit card?
After a moment of hesitation the leader of the group gruffly denied his request and took the backpack from him. They even stood him against the wall and patted him down, in case he was hiding anything on his clothes.
And that was how Jim ended up in a deserted street with absolutely nothing except the clothes on his back. They took his phone, his map, his backpack and everything in his pockets. Jim sighed for the umpteenth time that day.
Well, at least I have –
Jim reached up to his neck to feel the cool metal links of his locket
– and found nothing.
The breath abruptly cut off from his lungs. The realization slowly sank in. The locket…was in his bag.
The memory of him placing it inside earlier during the day hit him like a flood.
How could I have forgotten?
A sudden coldness swept over his body as he steeled himself. He felt his breath stabilizing and a calmness gripping his heart. He needed to find them and retrieve his backpack.
Jim quickly looked around the street and found a car parked to the side. He jogged up to it and peered through the window.
It was an old 2005 Toyota Corrolla.
Thank gods!
He wrapped his shirt around his elbows and smashed in the windows. After breaking in the first thing he did was to check the glove compartment. He found: pieces of receipt, a flashlight, some crumbled tissue paper...
Oh, come on!
…and a glove!
It was a pair of white cotton workman's gloves.
Finally, some luck!
He hurriedly stuffed his hands into them. In under a minute of smashing the windows he was already beneath the driver's seat sorting through the wires. The irony of trying to hotwire an old 2005 Toyota in the world's most technologically advanced city gave Jim a sardonic smile. But after some fumbling under the cramped space, he finally heard the engine start to sing.
As he pulled out of the parking space, Jim took stock of his situation.
At minimum there must be at least two vans; one with the capture team and another command and observation van. The tactical team – that robbed him – likely came from the second van. In theory, his backpack should be in the command van. The two vehicles will most likely be traveling to a safe house right now.
If they are stupid they will be travelling together, if not they will be some distance apart – but always in visual contact.
Jim didn't know where their safe house is. He only had a general idea of which direction they went.
But what he did know…was the map of Academy City.
He knew that right now they were near the borders of District 14, and just beside them are District 3 and District 19. District 3 is an area designated for authorized outsiders i.e. tourists, where there are a lot of hotels and accommodation.
It is therefore filled with counterintelligence personnel keeping an eye on these foreign visitors to Academy City.
No competent ops team would base their safe house out of such a place. District 19 on the other hand, was known for being a hotbed of criminal activity (or so said the intel brief). Therefore the obvious choice would be District 19.
As Jim drove recklessly past the intersections the uncertainty of his gamble weighed heavily on him. With some difficulty, he could recall the map and even some of the details. But he was still flying blind.
He needed to be lucky in order to catch them. With every passing moment his chances of finding them diminished. Soon he needed to make a gamble about their position and intercept them. Or it will be too late.
He recalled that there was a bridge nearby connecting the two districts. Of course, it was not the only way, but it was the closest one.
Maybe, maybe…
"Anything in the backpack?"
"No ma'am, just some common items. We don't have the package."
"What items?" she hissed.
"Some papers, a passport, booklet, a map, some jewelry, and a phone."
"Passport? What country?"
"Bulgarian."
She furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance.
"And the jewelry?"
She quickly took a look at it. It was just a plain metal locket. She huffed and stuffed everything back into the backpack.
"Update on the capture team."
"They are still waiting for the bridge."
She looked out the shaded windows at the drawbridge slowly lowering itself. It was probably unwise to stop here, but it was the closest route to the safe house. They had received reports of increased Anti-Skill patrols along their secondary and tertiary extraction routes. She did not want to take any chances on this one.
The operative turned and visually checked the capture van again. Yes, it was still there; it parked some distance away in another dark alley.
Patience…
They heard the crash of the broken glass first. Followed by the muffled thud of the brick smashing into the driver's face.
The other men flinched and immediately reached for the sliding door, but she managed to stop them in time. She gestured quickly at the windows. The door was certain to be covered; opening it would be suicide. She grabbed the backpack and calmly handed it to one of them.
"Get this to the capture van and extract it! They must be after the backpack!"
She pressed her mic and whispered instructions for the capture van to wait for the backpack before moving. Her hands began quickly issuing commands to the team as she closed the eyelid of her right eye.
A hint of flames licked her fingertips.
"I'll burn you alive," she whispered as they broke out through the windows.
It seems like Jim got the command van.
He didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. On the bright side, they should have his backpack. On the other hand, he will somehow have to deal with the tactical team that was breaking out through the windows.
Of course, they knew better than to just open the door.
Oh well, it was worth a try.
In any case, it's not like he had the angle covered with a gun. All he had were some bricks and the hope that he didn't miss with his throws.
He felt the familiar fear in his stomach rising again, but the Lady and her black, velvet arms were hardly strangers to him. He adjusted his gloved hands on the metal pipe and slithered up to the side of the van.
Jim caught the first man stuck trying to pull his pistol from his belt. He brought the pipe down hard but missed his head, sliding down his neck. It connected with the man's shoulder.
Miss, damnit.
Luckily the pain startled the man so much that his arm jerked away from his pistol, giving Jim a precious extra second to strike again. This time he did not miss; the pipe connected cleanly with his jaw. A frenzy of quick blows followed before the man hit the ground, bloodied and unconscious.
Jim caught the second man via the long suppressor poking through the side of the van. His first instinct was to whack the pistol away, but he quickly realized it was too risky: he did not like his odds in the hand-to-hand exchange that would follow.
So he swallowed his throat nervously and allowed the arm to extend further outwards. Finally the man's face came into view as he began to turn the corner.
Jim hit him in the head.
What luck! It was a pretty blind swing in the dark, but Jim felt the pipe connecting squarely with his forehead, and the man reeled backwards, distraught.
He stepped forwards to get the jump but the man fell head backwards on a large water pipe. There was a loud bang as he knocked himself out. The pistol fell uselessly to the ground.
Jim took a moment to smooth out his ragged breathing.
Wow, today is my lucky day, eh?
I thought I'd be dead by now.
He was given a rude reminder to not test his luck – a sudden ache spasmed through his left arm, burning through his muscles.
Not now, please.
Please.
No time to whine: Jim stumbled forwards and began to reach for the pistol on the ground just as she hit him with a blast of fire.
He barely managed to roll to the side but her flames followed him, flowing through her fingers in a furious arc. After a sustained burst, she folded her hands back to cut the torrent of flames to reacquire her target.
The sudden brightness of her flames had caused her iris to constrict, losing her natural night vision. So she simply closed her left eye and opened her right. She immediately found him hiding behind a pile of garbage cans.
Mustering her strength again she stepped forwards and unleased another controlled, accurate burst.
The brightness of her flames lit up the entire alleyway. A couple of windows creaked and shook from the pressure wave of the flames crashing against the wall. Satisfied with the damage, the she poured her fire out for a couple more moments before she took a step back and ceased its flow.
He didn't warrant the full blast of her powers; she wanted to conserve her strength. She knew that he would be burnt to a crisp regardless. After a short pause for adjustment, her eyes checked to confirm this.
Instead, she found herself staring at the lid of a garbage can.
"Wha…"
Shock overtook her as she struggled to believe what she was seeing. The boy was perfectly fine and unscathed. It was as if that flimsy aluminum lid had…stopped her fire.
But how?
She was a trained esper and her flames could melt even steel. Sure, she hadn't really put her back into the attack, but it was still enough to give someone severe third degree burns.
How could it be?
She saw him rise from his defensive position – like a superhero whose name eluded her – and raise his deadly weapon. Her hands numbly reach for her Beretta pistol. Her surprise dulled her reaction. Too slow.
He simply whacked her with his iron pipe.
"What is going on? Where is Malyana?"
"We were attacked! We need to go now!"
The man hurriedly handed over the backpack and gestured at the bridge.
"We need to go now!" he repeated again, more urgently.
"Get a hold of yourself! Nobody can defeat Malyana. She's probably cleaned the threat. Get back there and regroup with your team."
"No! Her orders were to –"
His head jerked forwards in a sudden motion as he collapsed in the van's doorway. The back of his skull was fractured open in what had to be –
Two shots managed to get through before they slammed close the van's door. One of the men peeked his head above the van's window. A bullet found him immediately. Several more shots followed in quick succession, showering them with broken glass.
"Floor it!"
There was no response from the driver.
The leader crept up to the front and found him slumped forwards on the steering wheel, blood dripping down from his head. The man looked at the two other pairs of frightened eyes staring at him in the dark. The target was still sleeping, yes, but she won't be for too much longer.
They needed to act.
The drawbridge was still lowering.
Oh, come on…
Jim fired several more shots at the windows before he crouched down and started to reload.
As much as he tried he couldn't get through the van's body. It didn't seem to be armor-plated but then again he's was just poking them with subsonic 9mm ammunition.
Suddenly he heard the van starting up and jerked his head up in dismay. Of course! Why didn't he think to shoot out the tires? He cursed himself for his stupidity, quickly moving forwards to get an angle.
This time they were firing back; their hands were leaning over the windows jerking off shots blindly. Jim managed to put two rounds in the back tire before a couple of whizzes came too close for comfort. Hopefully, the van was a rear-wheel drive.
The engine groaned and stuttered again before coming to life. The van pulled out of the alleyway in an uncertain zigzag and darted towards the drawbridge.
Too late.
It was too late now for Jim to commandeer the command van, let alone another car. Jim had no other choice. He groaned at his mistake and simply ran out into the street, chasing after the vehicle on foot.
The draw bridge was beginning to connect as the van raced gleefully to salvation.
Too little, too late.
Jim felt his own lungs screaming in exertion as he pushed his body to its limits. His thighs were burning with pain.
More, more, the thoughts burned into his mind.
The locket...
His vision was beginning to blur with sweat and motion; he could barely make out the dark shape of the van racing across the bridge.
It was then that he first saw the girl.
Was it a girl? He had trouble trying to tell from that distance. The night was dark and his vision was fading. All Jim could make out was a small figure standing directly in front of the speeding van on the other side of the drawbridge.
He saw her hands rise in a simple motion as if she was tossing something into the sky and then…
Light.
An awesome, blinding white light materialized from her hands. It was day again; the entire bridge was illuminated by the strength of beam as it shot forwards. Incredibly, it felt like the shockwave hit him first.
The light silently etched a line across the side of the van.
And where the light went, fire followed.
Jim's legs were moving forwards but for some reason he remained in the same place. It wasn't until when the gust of wind hit his face did he finally realized why. The aftershock – erupting in the opposite direction – had canceled out his movement.
A haze of rubble and showering dust descended. Jim somehow managed to locate the overturned van. He saw that the vehicle was beginning to smoke. Soon the engine will probably start on fire. Eerily, it reminded Jim of mortar rounds landing in the city.
And the beam didn't even hit the van directly.
For a moment he just stood there, brushing the dust and debris off his face, trying to digest what just happened. Steady, steady. Deep breaths. Alright.
What the fuck was that?
A laser beam?
Energy beam?
Magic?
Laser beam, magic beam, artillery beam, who gives a fuck: doesn't matter. Important thing is that he had no intention to get hit by it. He squinted his eyes – resignedly almost – as his fingers danced on the grip of the pistol. But this time he was not searching for the van.
He was looking for her.
He saw that she was a girl alright, and she was nonchalantly walking towards him. Her arm was bobbing up and down like she was tossing something about in the air. She had her eyes fixed on him, and Jim did not like it one bit.
He checked the pistol's chamber.
Round in. Safety off.
These fucking espers, he cursed mentally, hopefully, she's one of our guys.
Just as he was considering drawing his pistol on her, he saw someone running out of the overturned van. He poked his head forwards, squinting through the dark night and the haze, and saw a flash of silver.
Jim realized then that her hair was not light blonde as he had originally thought. The ghostly glow of the moonlight reflecting off her flowing hair reminded him of something else. But what he could not remember.
Her long, ashen hair flew past the wind as she ran towards the railing of the bridge.
It was the target that the operations team was after.
And she had his locket.
She stumbled towards the side of the bridge, clumsily leaping over the safety rails. When Jim made sure that the locket in her hand was his locket, he let out a pained groan and gave chase.
The target stopped at the very edge of the bridge before looking back. She saw that both Jim and the esper were running towards her, but Jim looked far more concerned than the girl. Her eyes darted down at the murky water below and before glancing back.
A strange expression flashed across her face.
That image of the girl, standing there, her white knuckles clutching his locket, burned itself into his mind.
In that split second, Jim saw her face overwhelmed by a deep, unspeakable sorrow.
Her face glimmered with anguish; and in them he saw a weary, fatigued pain that longed for an end. The wind blew her long ashen hair across her cheeks, strands of silver fluttering through her tears. Her emerald eyes pierced him with its silence.
He was overcome by the long millennia of solitude that had been, until now, borne in silence.
It made Jim remember something he never knew.
She clutched the locket in her thin hands, savoring the faint scent of the asphodels. Once again, she felt the cool, calm touch of the shadows brushing against her ankles as she followed the trail towards...
…towards what?
She struggled to remember.
In vain! For it was not meant to be.
She did not remember.
She could not.
She had forgotten.
It was a past that had long since melted away. Away it went with the sands of time, ceaselessly flowing forwards; a past robbed from her, a life that can never be again.
What for?
A dangerous hollowness crept into her eyes as she turned, unfettered by the tears, towards the deep abyss below.
"No!"
She jumped.
He followed.
Darkness.
Calm darkness engulfed him. How ironic that it was here, of all places, that he should find the familiar shadows dancing around him again. The cold water swirled around him as he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the depths, towards the calm void.
Home again.
What for, the thought crept into his mind, what difference does it make?
Why are you risking so much for…it?
A ripple vibrated through his heart as he felt the memories flooding back to him: the piercing screams, the warm blood flowing through the dirt, the shaking earth…and of course the day when he chose to bear everlasting night onto himself.
Because I promised.
He opened his eyes and saw a light glimmering in the inky depths. He recognized it.
It was the same light he saw that day, the same light that he tried to protect. It was the same light that blinded him, when the thick darkness swirled around him, whispering lies into his ears, telling him that he had no choice.
It was the light in the locket.
He reached out to grab it, but he was too far away. He saw the girl with ashen hair cupping the light in her hands and pulling it closer to her. He watched haplessly as the serene light rose out of her palm.
It disappeared into her chest.
What have I done?
Pain.
He tiredly rose out of the water and staggered onto the riverbank. He tried to get up but collapsed on his legs. Can't breathe. He had pushed his body to its limits. And now, his left arm was asking its due, and he felt the terrible pain pulsating from it.
Despite the pain, Jim could tell from its intensity that he had gotten lucky. The woman probably didn't use the full strength of her fire against him.
Let's hope I don't get a fucking episode.
But he was so weak.
Suddenly, he heard a rustle in the grass. Before he knew it he had raised his pistol – how did he still have that? – and found two schoolgirls at the end of the sights. They had simply materialized out of thin air.
One of them had an armband on her shirt. She looked at him suspiciously and toyed with a metal rod between her fingers. The other girl was the esper that Jim had saw on the bridge.
"I would drop that weapon if I were you," the armband girl called out.
"Who are you guys with?" Jim muttered.
"I am a member of Judgment! We protect Academy City from the likes of you."
Jim's fuzzy brain struggled to register that name. Judgment? Is that some gang? A department of Anti-Skill? That name sounded oddly familiar.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"We received reports of some criminals operating in this area. Now drop that gun before I send these rods through your brain. I won't ask again."
The esper girl touched her arm and said something in her ear.
"Yes onee-sama, but that doesn't mean he's not dangerous," the armband girl replied loudly.
Judgment! The name finally clicked for Jim.
"Hey! We're on the same side. I'm with Anti-Skill," Jim finally said.
"You expect me to believe that?" the armband girl readied the metal rods between her fingers.
But Jim didn't really care.
He strapped the gun against his belt and took a deep breath before diving down into the water again. The two girls exchanged concerned glances at each other and simply stared at the murky river. The sound of the water flowing past the bridge, crashing ceaselessly against its pillars, drowned the night.
-x-
First uploaded: 6/2/2020
Last modified: 9/2/2022
Word count: 5,090
Author's Notes:
Hello and thank you for reading my story. This chapter was written originally as a prank of sorts, a proof of concept if you will. I had some vague ideas to continue it but never got around to it until literally eight months later! As the story progressed in my mind I had to come back and rewrite some bits and add in information that will be relevant later on.
Currently, I have A LOT planned for this story. Granted right now they are all just story ideas with no substance on paper. Quite frankly, I don't think I will ever get to the end, but who knows eh? If you are looking for a long-running story, then this one might suit your tastes. But be warned, the updates will be very irregular and sporadic.
In any case, it is not your job as a reader to worry about such things. So just sit back, relax and follow poor Jimbo on his journey to...well I'm not just going to tell you!
You'll have to read the rest of this poorly-written crap yourself to find out!
Changelog:
5/3/2022 – Prose edits. Beefed up laser scene. Removed level reference.
21/4/2021 – Rating changed from T to M. This is mostly done for violence, not sexual content.
1/4/2021 – General edits and final cleanup (hopefully).
15/3/2021 – General edits. Changed Sofia vending machine reference.
7/3/2021 – Changed story title from "Certain Anti-Skill Cadet" to "Black Eyes". Shamelessly changed Jim's age again; Jim is 17 now. Shamelessly rewrote bridge reaction again.
7/12/2020 (?) – Shamelessly added "episode" comment. Reduced Malyana's attack power level. Nerfed Jim from James Bond to appropriate dumbass. Changed Jim's age. Mentioned Berretta(?) Added Lady.
20/10/2020 (?) – Added Bulgarian passport. Rewrote bridge reaction.