Chapter III
Mission 1 – Back View of Silver and Black
It was not a pleasant place, to say the least. It reeked of cigarette smoke
and heavy concoction of a variety of perfumes. The tiles on the walls were
either cracked or missing, and it was damp. A tap was leaking, and obviously had
been for quite some time already, for the whole floor was layered by chilling
water.
In short, it was not a place any person with an agreeable sense of
cleanliness would want to be in.
Fuuko treaded her way carefully across the restroom floor. At least the place
was empty. And no major orgy going on, no gang rapes, no nothing. Wow.
She looked at Mikagami in front of her, leading the way. It was annoying the
way he always managed to make himself look good, no matter what outfit he was
wearing, the… terrain he was in, or the condition of his body. He gets
stabbed, he looks cool, he wins a match, his opponent simply fades into the
background, he speaks, and you can see the words pounding the other person
into the ground. Putting it simply, he was infuriating.
And now, while Fuuko splashed water all over herself, the man looked like he
was gliding on the surface. That was annoying too.
The earlier condemning atmosphere had been lifted a little, replaced by a
silence. Fuuko wondered what Mikagami's words hinted at.
"Shut up, Fuuko. You don't know anything. You don't understand. So
shut up."
Was it something from his past…? Fuuko only knew the tone was cold, more
than cold. A kind of deadly statement. Like how those horror movies killers
whisper before they kill a crying woman. Only adding in a real killer. And minus
the helpless woman.
"Go into one of the cubicles, it'll be dryer."
Fuuko jumped. "Oh… okay. Sure." The same deep voice… but back
to a normal tone. Creepy. "Hey, it's the pink door, Mi-chan. Are you sure
you should be here at all? Kind of weird. And this place is so quiet," she
blabbered as she skipped into a cubicle on tiptoes. Mikagami followed her in and
closed the rusty metal door.
"If you really want to enter the men's rest room, I'll follow you.
And no, this is not quiet. Am I the only one hearing that tuneless song blasting
out there?" Mikagami turned to face her.
Fuuko jumped. Under the dim light of the failing bulb, his porcelain-like
white skin looked like it was giving off a light glow of its own. The silver
fringe fell from behind the ears and covered the intense blue eyes. Smooth hands
reached up to comb them back roughly. They fell back. The body hugging
long-sleeved crop top he was wearing was revealing too much. And Mikagami was
not skinny at all, she saw. Oblivious to most people, he actually had lithe
muscles on his slender body, that of a sprinter, not bulging, but smooth. Some
warm feeling appeared in her lower abdomen.
"I know I'm very tempting, but staring is rude," that voice cut
in. Mikagami was glaring. The reassuring old glare. Yeah, the SD-able Mi-chan
was back. The helpless-to-Fuuko-sama's-charms one. The one that can
be bullied.
"Who were you saying staring at you?" Fuuko blinked innocently.
"Is there some pervert hiding in here?" She looked around for the
effect of it all.
Mikagami did not respond to that. "What prompted you to wander away just
now?"
Fuuko's muscles tensed, and she ground her teeth. "The whole ludicrous
affair, of course! I don't know what big problems they are facing in life or
whatever they are unsatisfied about, but WHY resort to drugs? Have you seen
their eyes? They're crazy!"
A heavy ambience settled. Mikagami lowered his eyes. Softly, barely audible,
he replied, "You said it, you don't understand. You aren't them, you
aren't living their lives. You only saw the madness in the eyes; did you see
the torture? Did you see the life they had forsaken? No, Fuuko, you didn't."
He paused. Then looked at his right arm. "Sometimes… even when you have a
goal in life, you can't find the will to carry on living, because the reality,
the now, is too desolate, too hopeless."
Fuuko was surprised at the speech coming out from the stoic man, but listened
intently all the same. He did not seemed inclined to continue, only flatly
concluded, "What I'm trying to tell you is, don't interfere with
them." You're only an outsider.
He brushed back his bangs. "Come on, show me where you're
injured."
Fuuko gently touched her face and winced. "Shit. It's the face, that
son of a bitch. He actually dare to slap ME! Me, the goddess of wind and beauty
Fuuko-sama!"
"That shouldn't be any problem. Anything else?" Mikagami asked.
Fuuko blinked as if remembering something important, then rushed to
the tap embedded in the wall. Mikagami watched her choke and gurgle with the
water and frantically rubbed at the insides of her mouth. He smirked secretly.
"What, his mouth didn't taste good?"
Fuuko turned from her obsession with the water to glare at him. "Shut
up, or I'll blow the shit outta ya."
Mikagami complied and watched for five more minutes. "Your first
kiss?"
Fuuko straightened. "What do you think?"
Mikagami's raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Fuuko sulked.
"Oh," Mikagami dead-panned.
"Che, what a stupid way to… never mind," Fuuko gritted her teeth.
Then grinned. "Is Domon any better?"
Mikagami snorted. Silence hung thick for a while. Then, with feigned
brightness, Fuuko asked, "Have you had your first kiss yet, Mi-chan?"
He did not reply. He just stared at the wall opposite him. And smiled
humorlessly. "Yes."
"When?" Fuuko was interested. Intrigued, even.
"When I was… eleven? Twelve?"
"What?! I mean… that's so young…"
"… …"
"Who's that lucky girl?"
"Don't know. Never told me her name."
"Huh?!"
"Don't ask, okay?" Mikagami snapped sharply. He glared at the
wind girl, then chilled. "I believe there's another place hurting you.
Don't think you can worm it past me."
Before Fuuko could retort anything, she was pinned to the wall by the throat,
held there by Mikagami's forearm. He was not rough, but quite the opposite.
"H, hey!" she protested weakly.
"Open your mouth," he commanded. Fuuko, confused, opened hers wide.
"Hut ah eu hrying hu du?"
He lifted Fuuko's tanktop and stuck the end into her mouth. Reflexively,
the girl raised a hand to slap him, disgusted. He caught the hand even without
looking, and manipulated it into pushing Fuuko's own gaping jaws shut,
clamping down on the bit of tanktop. "I'm not going to rape you. Just
hold that thing there and don't move."
He released her hand and press gently at her exposed midsection.
Involuntarily, Fuuko winced and cringed back. "Hn, worse than you make it
out to be, huh?" Mikagami applied a little more pressure with his hands. A
muffled sound emitted from the closed mouth. A few more pokes. "The weight
of that guy didn't land on your ribs. It should be alright. You'll have a
bruise tomorrow." So be a little less active…
"Erm… okay…" Fuuko released her tanktop and asked, "Lemme
go now, k?"
Mikagami backed off and turned to walk out. "Oh, and remember,
Fuuko," he frowned and turned back to her. "Don't consume anything
here. I don't want you out of commission."
"What do you mean?" Fuuko asked slowly, a faint idea forming in
her.
"Drugs. In drinks and food," he explained. "Date-rape drugs,
like GHB."
"G what?" Fuuko asked again, a frown creasing her face. "For
hell's sake, talk in simple commoner's language, Mi-chan."
It's your incapacity of mind… "I want you to remain
functioning," he started to move off again. "Just don't drink
anything, unless I hand it to you."
Fuuko looked at her hands and wrinkled her nose. She stunk of alcohol from
that… shit. She called out to him, "I think I need to clean myself up a
little. And puke. Or at least, disinfect my mouth. You go out first."
Mikagami nodded and turned to go. Then, he paused. Turning back, he
approached Fuuko and leaned close to her face, causing her to shrink away.
"W-what?" Fuuko asked nervously.
Mikagami tilted his head and scrutinized the red mark on Fuuko's cheek.
Slowly, he reached out a hand and touched it, barely, but still, it was contact.
His finger brushed on the stinging part in a soft caress. "Bad slap… bear
with it."
Then, he was off, again walking so perfectly that he seemed to glide.
"Waiting outside," he said as he pulled open the door leading outside,
and slipped out into the music.
He was behaving strange, as his mind reside in the neutral border between
assassin and orphan. The presence of the wind girl had upset his delicate
balance of personality switchover. In a way, he had a link to the 'normal'
life with him, and that link was refraining him from thinking and acting like
how a killer should. Mikagami leaned against the wall and examined his fingers.
Fuuko's face had felt soft.
---
Fuuko seemed really flustered when she finally saw Mikagami again. For what
reason, the brilliant young man could not fathom, and was as clueless to the
cause as the victim of embarrassment herself. "Come on, don't wander off
this time."
Mikagami led the way, expertly walking with a subtle but sexy rhythm to the
hip, while a small smile played on his lips. Fuuko watched him in fascination.
Another new Mikagami – the pretender. There was no flaw with his acting, and
with the change in appearance, he passed more for a woman than Fuuko herself.
That thought hit her with a surge of annoyance. Goddess of beauty and
the wind subsequently felt squashed and insignificant.
She looked around. People were kissing and dancing wildly on the dance floor.
The disco lights ran over, giving them different colors each time. She was
looking at the sea of people when she felt something cold grasp her right calf.
"ACK!" Fuuko squeaked as she jerked her leg away from the pale
hand. A man with tousled hair crawled out of the dance floor, stepped upon by
many other dancers.
Fuuko looked at him apprehensively, ready to strike if he showed any signs of…
aggressiveness. He laughed weakly then collapsed on the ground again, still
laughing. Fuuko inched away. What was WRONG with the people here, anyway? Fuuko
eyed him a while more then turned away. Zipper unzipped, jeans stained, Fuuko
did not even want to imagine what he had been doing out on the dance floor. She
ran a little, squeezing through the crowd, and caught up with Mikagami.
He was heading towards the bar, it looked like.
"I'm starting to regret coming here… it's contaminating my
innocent mind…" she muttered fiercely into Mikagami's ears so he could
hear her over the music.
Mikagami gave her a small smile, and she caught the subtle mocking. "You
are free to return to the hotel and wait. You aren't making yourself
useful."
"Hey!" Fuuko hissed, restraining her fist.
"Can you drink?" he abruptly changed the topic.
"I thought you told me not to touch anything here?" Fuuko shot
back, finding the slip.
"Just in case. Can you?"
"No prob with beer, always drinking with Recca. I hold my stuff better
than him and Domon combined!"
He did not say anything after that.
I took a walk around the world to
Ease my troubled mind
I left my body laying somewhere
In the sands of time
I watched the world float to the dark
Side of the moon
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah
She fingered her hair nervously and wished she had Mikagami's indifference.
Anyway, she was staring at her partner's interesting hair color when she
suddenly noticed he had very nice legs for a man. Or even a woman. His skin was
pale and made more ghostly by the disco lights. There was not a trace of ugly
hair whatsoever on the smooth muscles moving to the unhurried walk. Top the
above mentioned with a cute ass and Fuuko now felt difficult to divert
her attention away from his lower body.
It wasn't until somebody grabbed at Mikagami's hand that she shook
herself out of the mild trance. Damn, I'm straying unhealthily… It
was a coarse-featured middle-aged man, slack against his seat in a drunken
stupor. (Fuuko wrinkled her nose.) His lazy eyes turned lecherous as he grinned
at the expressionless Mikagami. "Hi, ba-*hick*, baby. How mu-*hick* much
for one *hick* hour? *hick*"
Mikagami put on the small smile again and ran gentle fingers across the man's
forehead. Fuuko looked on in surprise, as a strange feeling rose up from her
guts. It made her sort of… sick, to have the beautiful boy and the drunkard together
in her range of vision.
"You can't afford the price," Mikagami whispered, pulling away
his hands.
The man grabbed Mikagami's slender wrist again and gave another toothy
grin. This time, Mikagami curled his index finger and slowly, deliberately,
jabbed the man's temples with the second joint. He fell back limp. Mikagami
walked on, like nothing had happened. Fuuko spared the unconscious man another
look, then hastily caught up with his eccentric partner. She gave an
inconspicuous nudge. "Hey, he's not dead, is he?"
"No, idiot." I'm an assassin, not a freelance murderer…
With that, Mikagami's smile widened and he continued on. Fuuko blinked
stupidly, then hastily caught up with the disappearing figure. She tugged his
arm urgently. Mikagami turned and put an arm around her waist in an affectionate
way. "What?"
"DON'T TOUCH ME!!" Fuuko yelled, alarmed, as she slapped away the
arm automatically. Her hair was standing on end at the sudden contact of skin
with Mikagami. Sudden contact not initiated by her.
"Oh fine," Mikagami shrugged and tossed his hair the other way.
"What?"
Fuuko stood stiffly two metres away from him. "What did you do to that
guy?"
Her partner resumed walking. "Only knocked him out. My hand just happen
to be strong. Now smile, little girl. You don't happen to live in a morgue, do
you?" Mikagami winked at another passing young man.
Fuuko seethed. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"No. I was not the one to choose the woman disguise. Now you have to
live with this sickening attitude," Mikagami hissed into her ears. Louder,
he said, "So you shouldn't complain, Fuuko-chan, eh?"
"Right, right. So where exactly are you going, boss?" Fuuko
growled. "English is my failing subject, and I don't plan to execute my
wonderful oral skills here."
"Don't let others get the wrong idea with that," Mikagami looked
at her strangely. And added quietly, "Don't worry, I'll talk. Just don't
drink anything. Or eat. And be careful. You're attracting unwanted
attention."
They found themselves two seats at the counter. Fuuko had a good figure, that
was for sure, and good looks, for that matter. But at the moment, it seemed that
her swoon-worthy appearance was being squashed flat by the mere existence of a
revenge-fanatical sissy. She inexpertly hid her irritation as Mikagami glided
onto his seat, and looked around in mild interest. He tossed his hair elegantly.
The all-famous veins made their appearance once again, coming back tenfold.
Discreetly, she hissed, "This is not a time to ENJOY yourself,
amateur."
Mikagami tossed his head again in her way, looking at her with a
measured amount of feminine scorn, whether pretended or actual, Fuuko did not
know. "Now what do you know about this place, young lady?"
Fuuko snorted in disgust. "I know we have to take some action and not
sit here pretending to be sexy."
Eyes narrowing, Mikagami reached out with lightning speed and grabbed a
handful of Fuuko's hair, pulling her roughly towards him. Her face registered
shock, then anger. Mikagami saw the change in expression. He smiled. Gently, he
leaned closer and ran his lips up Fuuko's jaw line to her ear, then giving a
little bite. And whispered, "I'm not Tokiya Mikagami of Hokage now, got
it, sweetheart? You're seating here with Metallica of the Company,
full-fledged assassin and terrorist, at least seven years more experienced than
you."
He let go of her tense body. He could see disquiet in her eyes, maybe even a
trace of fear. Calmly, he turned back to the counter and signaled for the
bartender. Fuuko seemed to recover from her shock pretty quickly. She hissed
angrily, grabbed his tank top and yanked it hard. "Thank you for the
lecture, sempai."
Mikagami stared coolly at the hand on his clothe and Fuuko released him with
a poisonous glare. The bartender stepped over with a little smile. "Can I
help you, pretty?"
Mikagami's smiled sweetly and let his eyes scroll down the list of
cocktails and other alcohol behind the lady. With a bored dismissive gesture, he
drawled, "Bartender's special."
"Right away," the woman picked up a glass and rinsed it under a
tap.
"With receipt," Mikagami added as he turned to watch the crowd.
Fuuko saw the woman pause for a moment before resuming her work with
efficiency. The vodka went in together with something that was labeled Nassau
Royale. She watched the colors mixed as it was stirred. Fuuko wondered how
people could remember that many recipes. She rested her head on her palm and
watched the fruit being cut.
Mikagami seemed to have spotted the thing/person that he was searching for,
because when he turned back, he had a look of satisfaction in his eyes.
"What?" Fuuko asked curiously.
"Nothing," Mikagami replied offhandedly, pushing some notes across
the counter. The bartender slid a receipt to him, which he pocketed with grace.
Then he was standing up and pushing the drink to Fuuko. "For you.
Safe."
Fuuko blinked. But her partner was already lost in the dance floor, melting
into the moving crowd. Hey!!
---
Mikagami moved through the mass of bodies, merging with the smells of sweat,
perfume and carelessness. The lights flashed different colors every second, and
the faceless people were tinted different shade with it. He moved across nearly
to the other side of the dance floor, then tapped broad shoulders clothed in
red.
The man turned, and raised his brows at the sight of Mikagami.
Mikagami did not say anything, but flashed a sultry smile and held out his
hand. An invitation to dance. The man hesitated before taking his hand and
letting him lead the way into the center of the crowd. Mikagami took a quick
glance at the direction of the bar, but could not see a thing. He only hoped
Fuuko had the sense to wait. Then he turned back to the man he had dragged
along, and started to dance.
His partner gave a lop-sided grin and followed suit, letting his eyes roam
and linger on the beautiful stranger's body. The crowd pressed them close
together, almost sparing them no moving space.
The music changed to light techno, and Mikagami pretended to close his eyes,
losing himself to the beat. He could feel the pulsating crowd moving him, and
when bass drum came in, he let himself be pushed towards his partner. Then he
caught the broad hand with his slender pale ones, and pushed a piece of paper
over. "I know it's you. Make it quick," he murmured into his ears.
The man did not look the least surprised.
Mikagami waited as the receipt was taken, and a coin was pushed into his
waiting hand. He gave a last smile, then blew a kiss and drifted off, dancing
with the beat.
---
Fuuko was confused. Fuuko was angry. Fuuko was feeling a little off beat and
light-headed.
Damn, it must have been the drink.
It was all Mikagami's fault…
Damn him. Fuuko restrained a giggle.
Her thoughts were still muddled when someone stepped between her and the
person taking Mikagami's seat. That someone had silver hair, and pushed a coin
over to the bartender who had been watching her discreetly with an amused glint
in her eyes. Ah… Fuuko knew… she restrained another giggle.
The woman slipped the coin into her pocket then lifted up the barring table
for Mikagami to cross. He walked past her, like it was the most expected thing
to do. "The girl too."
"She seems pretty immature…" the bartender gave Fuuko an
appraising look as she went past her, not knowing what was happening, but
following her only friend in miles. Fuuko scowled, but said nothing.
"Unlike the beautiful lady, of course."
The woman put down the table again and rang a small bell. The door behind her
opened and a young man in sloppy uniform sauntered out. He eyed Mikagami in
interest, but at a look from the woman, took up his position at the counter. She
held the door open and ushered the two in before locking the three of them on
the other side. Almost as soon as the lock clicked, her smile was plucked off
and she swept her hair backwards, getting rid of the sexy but irritating fringe.
In small precise steps, she led them out of the small empty bartenders' lounge
through another door into a cold stone corridor.
Fuuko and Mikagami followed her wordlessly. Fuuko found the drastic change in
attitude unnerving. The lady marching in front of them was no longer the bitchy
airhead she had seemed. In her place was some cool professional who knew her
work enough to trust her life on it. They stopped at another door (a strong
metal one this time) at the end of the passage. The lady turned to face them,
eyes calculating. "You're allowed to bring your weapons in, but I'm
going to search you for explosives and communicating devices."
The two patiently obeyed by the procedures. When the bartender was finished,
she grimly nodded to them and pressed a button on the wall beside her. A small
square next to that slid open, revealing a hand-print identification panel and a
crowded keypad. "My alias is Chameleon, ranking in one of the higher lines;
you won't want to try any tricks," the lady informed them as she swiftly
keyed in series of code and placed her palm on the identification panel. The
machine gave a satisfying beep and the heavy metal door in front of them slid
open silently.
After the door was more corridor, this time with doors leading off both
sides. They were led to the end and into an elevator. Mikagami opened his mouth
for the first time since they entered the place, "Let us use different
rooms. I don't want to waste time."
Chameleon nodded. She pressed the button for the third level. As the elevator
sent them up, Fuuko glanced around at the interior of the lift. It was more than
the average passenger elevator, one could see. There were cameras literally
watching every inch of the space within the confinement of the metal sides. On
top of that, there were bugs transmitting their conversation, should the guards
wish to listen, and from Fuuko's knowledge, they were sensitive and expensive
bugs, able to catch every whisper.
She glanced at Mikagami. He was, as usual, staring off into space blankly. A
tinkle sounded, followed by a mechanic voice, "Level 3. Please slot in
admission card and key in admission code."
Chameleon drew out a silver card from some unseen mysterious pocket and
pushed it into the slit beside the 'door close' button, then swiftly punched
in a few numbers. The two heavy doors slid open silently, followed by another
two doors behind them. Fuuko raised an eyebrow. What kind of place was this
anyway? Military base?
The trio stepped out into another long corridor, but this time, an
expensively furnished one. Quaint lanterns were hung on the wall of both sides,
in which scented candles were lit. They were the only sources of light in the
whole carpeted passage. Mikagami and Fuuko followed their guide past several
strong metal doors leading off the hallway before being stopped at another
identical one. She punched in another chain of numbers on the keypad and pushed
open the door. The room was very compact, containing only a table, a chair and a
computer. The opposite end of the room was black-tinted glass from ceiling to
floor, over-looking a lonely road. What was surprising was that the non-glass
walls were plated with metal all over. Without the glass wall and furniture, it
would have looked like a prison cell.
"Right, the lady goes first," Chameleon commanded after a moment of
silence. "The girl will be shown to another room."
Mikagami stepped in silently. Fuuko's eyebrows twitched at the uses of 'lady'
and 'girl'. Her head was starting to come back to her. The fog receded…
"You will be released from the room when you have completed the
transaction," Chameleon said, keying in more numbers on the number pad. The
door swung close.
Mikagami stood still for a while. Then, he reached out a hand to knock on the
wall. It felt thick. Soundproof…
He had only been to this place once, but everything was as he remembered –
very secretive. Even if the FBI decided to drop in for a check, there would be
no evidence of any illegal activities going on. That was perhaps one of the
reasons why the information centre had survived for such a long time.
He pulled the chair over and sat down in front of the computer. The screen
saver deactivated as soon as he took control of the mouse. The program open was
something like a chat room. Some words appeared in the blank window.
Welcome. Please state the type of information you wish to purchase.
Mikagami began typing.
Recent sightings and profile of code Maniac from the Company.
Reply: Searching.
He waited patiently.
Reply: Subject is a registered secret member of this centre, and therefore,
identity is subjected to protection from anyone with exception of the committee
board. We are unable to disclose any of subject's information.
The muscles in Mikagami's neck began to tense as he read on. Something in
him warned him of a disaster to come.
In addition, subject has paid the centre to eliminate any buyers attempting
to obtain subject's information. However, only half the transaction is
completed. We can still provide a minimum of subject's profile if requested.
Do you still wish to have it?
Contents: Basic Profile
Price: US$50,000
Quality: 6/10
Mikagami pulled his gun out from his jacket and continued.
Yes.
Reply: Please place cash in the open slot and wait.
Mikagami drew out a bundle of cash from the same pocket and placed it
carefully in a slot in the table. It closed up.
Reply: Counting amount.
The grip on the gun tightened. Suddenly, a buzz sounded from the computer
and three messages popped out at the same time, one a neutral blue, one in green
and the other in red.
Red: Subject's incomplete transaction completed.
Green: Amount correct. Information processing.
Blue: Both transactions were completed at the same time.
Mikagami stood up abruptly, raising his gun to a ready position.
Reply: Therefore, go to HELL.
Without any warning, some of the panels in the wall slid open. Small tubes
were revealed and invisible gas began hissing out. Mikagami's mind reflexively
went into survival mode. Poison…
Instinctively, he stopped breathing. Raising his gun, he tried blasting at the
door, but not so much of a scratch appeared on the metal. More annoyed than
panicked, Mikagami turned and shot at the glass, but the bullets bounced off it
too. Bulletproof?! That was when a trace of doubt began to show itself.
Then, more of the panels slid open to reveal other horrors. Machine guns.
-----
Fuuko was led back to the elevator, to her surprise. "Aren't I going
into some isolation cell too?"
Chameleon pulled out a palmtop from her mysterious pocket and wrote something
inside. After a while, she replaced it again. "No, the other rooms in this
level are all in use. You'll have to take another on the next level."
Fuuko followed the woman silently into the elevator (but to get in, she again
had to key in more numbers). They went up to the fourth level (card, admission
code, open sesame); the furnishing was similar to that of the third level. The
light was just as dim but the aroma of flowers was stronger.
Fuuko was shown to a room at the extreme end of the corridor. The door shut
softly and she was left alone with the computer. Sighing, she flopped down onto
the chair and examined the screen. It seemed like one of the chat-rooms she
always visited. A line of words appeared.
Welcome. Please state the type of information you wish to purchase.
Fuuko pondered over it.
Something on this assassin called Maniac. I'm not sure who the hell he is,
but what you are giving must be good. Or I'll kick your ass.
Reply: Searching.
At the main intelligence control centre…
The agent addressing Fuuko sighed regretfully at what he was given. He nudged
his partner. "Hey, look, another one looking for this Maniac person. Two in
a row?"
His partner shrugged. "I've already done as the bosses commanded. My
other end should just be about dead already."
Fuuko's agent was about to give a negative reply when another window popped
out.
Head of Central Intelligence: Show video code 8675. Contents = requested
information.
The agent faltered.
Subject is a registered member of the centre.
Orders remain unchanged.
Executing orders.
The screen flickered on again. This time, the lady was awaiting. Immediately,
she queried, "Has my order been approved, chief?"
The man on her screen nodded. "Yes, ma'am. The video should begin in a
minute's time."
"Good. Contact me again at 0200."
Fuuko was already getting very impatient. Had the other end decided to take a lunch break? Then the words appeared:
Information located in the form of a video.
Price: US$33,000
Quality: 5/10
Do you wish to view it?
Fuuko sighed and checked her wallet. Damn. With this amount of money, I
can buy a house of my own… Grudgingly, she clicked on 'Yes'. Never
mind, the money's Mi-chan's…
The slot opened and Fuuko chucked in the cash, mumbling something inaudible,
but definitely curses.
Reply: Amount correct. Now you shall be shown the video. We shall bear no
responsibilities if the information misfit your desired purchase. When the video
has finished running, your usher will be back to take you away.
The lights in the room dimmed as the screen went black. There was pure
silence for a few seconds before the screen revived in company of the very
familiar bustling noise of a mall.
It was a woman. A woman at the window of a departmental store. Her back was
facing the camera, a little unfocused, like the film was taken from far away.
The screen flashed to a small silver pistol, silencer screwed on, and a pale
hand holding it slack. A metallic ring adorned the middle finger; it seemed
somewhat familiar.
Fuuko frowned, trying to recall where she had seen it before.
The screen zoomed out. The owner of the pale hand and the shopping woman were
standing at opposite sides of a square used to display promotional goods, now
empty of anything but shoppers. It was a Japanese mall, one could observe. The
two points of focus were no more than patches of blurred color.
Then the screen zoomed in again, still focused on the square. The person
holding the gun was wearing some top with black sleeves, which was all that
could be seen. The rest of the person remained in shadows of a pillar.
Discreetly, the grip on the pistol tightened. The hand brought it up slightly,
barrel directed at the woman, at hip level so the eyes of the crowd easily
missed it. Cold light gleamed off the gun. It was beautiful in a sick way.
The angle of filming changed. Now the camera was behind the gun
person. He/she was wearing black jeans, which was all that could be seen from
that height. He/she remained still for a few minutes, watching the woman.
I pay tens of thousands to watch people shop in a mall… Fuuko's
vein floated up.
Then, for three seconds, the crowd parted slightly. There was one clear
stretch of open space between the gun and the woman.
Time did not slow for the bullet to be seen silently leaving the barrel.
Fuuko could not see anything travelling the distance between the two There wasn't
enough time to scream; there wasn't even blood. All she knew was that, the
next moment, the woman was on the ground, shopping bags around her.
Fuuko frowned. Was this a film of one of Maniac's mission? It could have
been snipped off a movie for all she knew. And this lousy piece of work did not
even reveal the guy's looks! Fuuko paused in her thoughts, then her eyes
softened in sadness. What happened to me…? When have I become this
heartless…?
Her silence aided the passers-by' oblivion of her mishap – students
giggled at the cute salesperson, the guy rolled his eyes, elderly ladies shook
their heads at them, and the bullet-impaled woman lay on the ground. The scene
was so surreal one would laugh.
It was no lesser than one minute before someone lower his eyes and saw the
still woman on the ground. That was when the commotion started. The slight
trickle of blood from a small wound in the chest had collected in a large pool
of crimson, staining the red carpet a darker shade.
Before the circle closed in around the woman, the camera zoomed in on the
woman's pale face.
Fuuko mind slowly, ever so slowly, went numb.
It was no pretty sight. There was no dainty trickle of blood from the corner
of the mouth, but splatters all over the face. She was convulsing a little
despite her unconsciousness. Her features were friendly, giving a motherly kind
of feeling.
Fuuko recognized the brown hair. Fuuko recognized the amiable face. Fuuko
recognized the familiar flowered shirt.
Fuuko recognized her mother.
The world's forever-occurring noises and sounds were muted out at that
moment. There was only the blood. She could only see the blood.
The deep red blood.
Fuuko tried to breathe, but she could not force the air out of her lungs. She
wanted to scream, but her jaws were trembling too much. She needed to cry, but
the pain was too agonizing.
One minute passed. The screen had froze at that one close-up of the face. For
one whole minute. Her hands felt wet. She looked down and saw her nails digging
into her palms, forcing cherry-colored blood to ooze out. Fuuko stared blankly
at her hands. Blood again.
It was common sense rather than pain that told her to relax her tight fists.
Physically, she felt nothing. Her palm did not hurt. Her body was numb. Unlike
her heart, it was successfully insulated against the pain by…
By what? She asked herself. Pain? Sadness? Fury?
Yes, that was it. She was angry. In fact, she was downright murderous.
The scene finally switched. The body in the shadows moved. Turned. Walked
away. Merging into part of the crowd. Fuuko only saw his back.
And the long silvery hair.
Author's notes
Aye aye, saturn has been resurrected from a death sleep by… erm… what?
Don't know, but it's not a kiss. I don't like this chapter, as usual, but
it'll have to do. I'm sorry my writing is degrading tremendously… I don't
know why… anyway, this was written long ago, before my other birthday series
started, and I didn't bother to do a rewrite, so er… sorry…
For those who think the 'go to HELL' thing is a little old-fashioned, I'll
just say I have use for this little phrase later on ^^
By the way, I'm going to have a webpage soon! It's an archive of Flame of
Recca fics but I only have about 50, as of now. Will try to add twenty more to
the numbers before I launch it.
Some fanarts not related to this fic by me:
http://www.angelfire.com/anime3/vevolution/reccaarts/artclass01.jpg
http://www.angelfire.com/anime3/vevolution/reccaarts/artclass02.jpg
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The Darker Side is an original piece of work copyrighted to saturn de wicked™.
Characters in this fanfiction are adapted from Flame of Recca without permission
from the creator and are copyrighted to their respective owners.
Lyrics incorporated into this fanfiction belong to Limp Bizkit,
from the song Take A Look Around of album Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog
Flavored Water.