Ch.4: Missions
In a flash, the wire was out and coiled in his hand, ready to strangle whoever came
into his office without knocking. He shouldn't have bothered. He looked at the newcomer,
at her high heels that clicked inticingly on the wooden vinyl floor, and at her snazzy red
suit that seemed to be tailored to her size. Perhaps it was, but he would never know. He
unwound the wire and heard it reel back into the watch on his wrist. He sat back down, and
faced her.
"Why why, if it isn't Manx."
"Good day, Balinese."
"What? Leaving so soon? Why not have some fun?"
The corners of Manx's lips turned upwards a little. "I think you hardly need that
with Tamiko to entertain you at night."
He turned red. But it quickly faded as Manx handed a folder to him. He took it
with his usual grace, and looked on the cover where 'Balinese' was scrawled. Under it, in
the same lettering, there was a 'Siberian'. He looked up hopefully at Manx. "You're
teaming us up again?"
"Don't you like it?"
"Of course! Makes it feel just like old times..." He trailed off, and Manx had no
doubt in her mind that she knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling at that moment.
She took the envelope from him, and pulled out the first sheet of paper, then after
confirming this was the one she sought for, handed it to him. He took it in puzzlement, but
his eyes lit up when he found that it was from 'someone'. Shocked, he looked up at her and
asked disbelievingly, "Where did you get this?"
"We're tracking Aya. This was found at the last place he was living at. In his
trash can. We typed it up for you. Previously, it was just as messy as that handwriting on
the cover of that folder." She nodded at the said folder, and added, "But I daresay you
think that this is all bogus."
There was no answer. He was too busy reading the letter. Still, she raised her
hand in farewell and went out the door. Absentmindedly he returned the act, and continued
to read.
Once outside of the room, the man right outside the door turned quickly to her and
asked, "Well?"
"Aya, please be patient. But somehow, I don't think he does anymore. It's not a
good thing to have Ken pose as Tamiko for much longer. We're going to have to find a way to
reveal him. But for now, Siberian and Balinese have their hands full with soccer and
investigating and missions. Don't bother them just yet."
Without a word, just a grimace, he turned and walked down the hall. She watched him
go, and suddenly she found that he looked smaller, more diminuitive. He's a man lost,
she thought. I only hope he can find his way back again.
* * *
"Siberian, what's the address again?"
"I swear, this is the millionth time I've said this! And we're still in the car,
Youji, we don't need to use codenames in the car where no one can hear us anyways!"
The car skidded to a halt in front of a grated metal door, just a tad bit darker
than the sky above. Youji turned towards Ken, and snapped, "This is the place?"
"Yep. Don't know where the contact is, though."
Almost on cue, a slight sound to Youji's side emerged, like the scrape of something
on the car door. It was all the warning that they needed; wire came out coiled and ready,
bugnuks were unsheathed from their glove. But there was not much that happened. The car
door opened, and both were immediately disgruntled by the hail of rain that pattered into
the car. Quickly Youji climbed out, ready to face whatever there was to face out there, and
Ken quickly followed. There was nothing out there except for rain, clouds, and a man.
They did not need to ask if he was the contact or not. He simply was.
Only when the lightning split the sky did they become interested.
"Omi?"
The man shifted his weight to the other foot. "No", he stated in a deep voice too
deep to be Omi's, "I'm not Omi. My name is Tsukiyono Kotaro, codenamed Hotaru. I'm a
Kritiker agent. There is not much to this mission. You go in, one of you, preferably you",
he nodded at Youji. "You", he looked at Ken, "should go to the back of this school and
retrieve the police car I've borrowed. On the dashboard there's a fake police ID. When
Balinese brings the gang out of the school, you will assist in putting them in cars.
Remember to show your certification. The rest if up to you." Then, as an afterthought, the
voice came again and murmured in low tones, "Tell Omi 'hi' for me. White hunters hunt the
dark beasts of tomorrow."
There was no more person there. He was gone. They blinked, and stared, but nothing
was there.
Needless to say, the mission was accomplished.
But Tsukiyono Kotaro was reported missing from that date on.
And Youji never relayed his message to Omi.
* * *
He could still remember the incredulous looks on their faces when they entered.
Shocked, the 2 former members of Schwartz stared at him, at his familiar lilt and walk, at
the very red hair and violet eyes in disbelief. He figured that they had heard from
Kritiker that he was missing and presumed dead. It had all been part of the plan, though.
There was nothing to it, to just tell them that he was dead. If he was dead, than he was a
zombie, or a ghost, right?
Wrong. He wasn't dead.
Not yet, that is.
"What are you doing here?", Crawford's monotone voice asked him while the face
turned back to the arrangement that he was currently doing. He shrugged, and asked back,
"I could ask you the same question."
Schuldich wasted no time in prying vocally. He could tell that he didn't want to
expend his power into his mind, though it was almost second nature to him. "Well", the
nasal voice drawled a little, "you have a place to stay?"
He shook his head. Schuldich pointed upstairs to his old room. "Get settled in."
He nodded, but didn't smile or speak. The old Aya Fujimiya, also known as
Abyssinian, was back. Mask on, emotions off. That was just the way it was. And now, that
he had lost everything he had worked for, only the dregs of tea were left, but the aroma
that was left was still sweet. But memories were only good to wallow in, and wish you could
relive them. There was no use in them, unless on a mission. But, perhaps, this was a
mission.
Life itself was a mission. The mission to survive.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
Well, that was interesting. I think part of the reason my chapters are getting
shorter and shorter is because my friend once told me that she never read my fanfiction
because the chapters were too long and she didn't want to scroll down all the time. But
still, I'll make it longer. The next chapter is the facts that you already know. It's in
the form of flashbacks and dialogue, so keep up with it. Just read it, it'll take too long
to explain anyways.
Andrea Weiling
In a flash, the wire was out and coiled in his hand, ready to strangle whoever came
into his office without knocking. He shouldn't have bothered. He looked at the newcomer,
at her high heels that clicked inticingly on the wooden vinyl floor, and at her snazzy red
suit that seemed to be tailored to her size. Perhaps it was, but he would never know. He
unwound the wire and heard it reel back into the watch on his wrist. He sat back down, and
faced her.
"Why why, if it isn't Manx."
"Good day, Balinese."
"What? Leaving so soon? Why not have some fun?"
The corners of Manx's lips turned upwards a little. "I think you hardly need that
with Tamiko to entertain you at night."
He turned red. But it quickly faded as Manx handed a folder to him. He took it
with his usual grace, and looked on the cover where 'Balinese' was scrawled. Under it, in
the same lettering, there was a 'Siberian'. He looked up hopefully at Manx. "You're
teaming us up again?"
"Don't you like it?"
"Of course! Makes it feel just like old times..." He trailed off, and Manx had no
doubt in her mind that she knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling at that moment.
She took the envelope from him, and pulled out the first sheet of paper, then after
confirming this was the one she sought for, handed it to him. He took it in puzzlement, but
his eyes lit up when he found that it was from 'someone'. Shocked, he looked up at her and
asked disbelievingly, "Where did you get this?"
"We're tracking Aya. This was found at the last place he was living at. In his
trash can. We typed it up for you. Previously, it was just as messy as that handwriting on
the cover of that folder." She nodded at the said folder, and added, "But I daresay you
think that this is all bogus."
There was no answer. He was too busy reading the letter. Still, she raised her
hand in farewell and went out the door. Absentmindedly he returned the act, and continued
to read.
Once outside of the room, the man right outside the door turned quickly to her and
asked, "Well?"
"Aya, please be patient. But somehow, I don't think he does anymore. It's not a
good thing to have Ken pose as Tamiko for much longer. We're going to have to find a way to
reveal him. But for now, Siberian and Balinese have their hands full with soccer and
investigating and missions. Don't bother them just yet."
Without a word, just a grimace, he turned and walked down the hall. She watched him
go, and suddenly she found that he looked smaller, more diminuitive. He's a man lost,
she thought. I only hope he can find his way back again.
* * *
"Siberian, what's the address again?"
"I swear, this is the millionth time I've said this! And we're still in the car,
Youji, we don't need to use codenames in the car where no one can hear us anyways!"
The car skidded to a halt in front of a grated metal door, just a tad bit darker
than the sky above. Youji turned towards Ken, and snapped, "This is the place?"
"Yep. Don't know where the contact is, though."
Almost on cue, a slight sound to Youji's side emerged, like the scrape of something
on the car door. It was all the warning that they needed; wire came out coiled and ready,
bugnuks were unsheathed from their glove. But there was not much that happened. The car
door opened, and both were immediately disgruntled by the hail of rain that pattered into
the car. Quickly Youji climbed out, ready to face whatever there was to face out there, and
Ken quickly followed. There was nothing out there except for rain, clouds, and a man.
They did not need to ask if he was the contact or not. He simply was.
Only when the lightning split the sky did they become interested.
"Omi?"
The man shifted his weight to the other foot. "No", he stated in a deep voice too
deep to be Omi's, "I'm not Omi. My name is Tsukiyono Kotaro, codenamed Hotaru. I'm a
Kritiker agent. There is not much to this mission. You go in, one of you, preferably you",
he nodded at Youji. "You", he looked at Ken, "should go to the back of this school and
retrieve the police car I've borrowed. On the dashboard there's a fake police ID. When
Balinese brings the gang out of the school, you will assist in putting them in cars.
Remember to show your certification. The rest if up to you." Then, as an afterthought, the
voice came again and murmured in low tones, "Tell Omi 'hi' for me. White hunters hunt the
dark beasts of tomorrow."
There was no more person there. He was gone. They blinked, and stared, but nothing
was there.
Needless to say, the mission was accomplished.
But Tsukiyono Kotaro was reported missing from that date on.
And Youji never relayed his message to Omi.
* * *
He could still remember the incredulous looks on their faces when they entered.
Shocked, the 2 former members of Schwartz stared at him, at his familiar lilt and walk, at
the very red hair and violet eyes in disbelief. He figured that they had heard from
Kritiker that he was missing and presumed dead. It had all been part of the plan, though.
There was nothing to it, to just tell them that he was dead. If he was dead, than he was a
zombie, or a ghost, right?
Wrong. He wasn't dead.
Not yet, that is.
"What are you doing here?", Crawford's monotone voice asked him while the face
turned back to the arrangement that he was currently doing. He shrugged, and asked back,
"I could ask you the same question."
Schuldich wasted no time in prying vocally. He could tell that he didn't want to
expend his power into his mind, though it was almost second nature to him. "Well", the
nasal voice drawled a little, "you have a place to stay?"
He shook his head. Schuldich pointed upstairs to his old room. "Get settled in."
He nodded, but didn't smile or speak. The old Aya Fujimiya, also known as
Abyssinian, was back. Mask on, emotions off. That was just the way it was. And now, that
he had lost everything he had worked for, only the dregs of tea were left, but the aroma
that was left was still sweet. But memories were only good to wallow in, and wish you could
relive them. There was no use in them, unless on a mission. But, perhaps, this was a
mission.
Life itself was a mission. The mission to survive.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
Well, that was interesting. I think part of the reason my chapters are getting
shorter and shorter is because my friend once told me that she never read my fanfiction
because the chapters were too long and she didn't want to scroll down all the time. But
still, I'll make it longer. The next chapter is the facts that you already know. It's in
the form of flashbacks and dialogue, so keep up with it. Just read it, it'll take too long
to explain anyways.
Andrea Weiling