Between the Shadows

By: Ethereal Fury

Chapter Two: Return to the Akademy

Zephyr walked back through the fire-lit tranquility of the tavern's main room paying no heed to its inhabitants or the occasional catcall that hung suspended in his hurried wake. He had no time for such insignificant pettiness; he had to get back to the Akademy and that's all that mattered now. Approaching the heavy wooden door, he pulled his hood back over his head, concealing his face and making his swift expert movements almost imperceptible. Opening the door only enough to slip outside into the damp darkness of the autumn night, the blackness of his clothes blended with the impenetrable dimness of the alleyway's flickering shadows. It was almost impossible to discern the black silhouette prowling swiftly and deftly through the narrow side streets. He checked his watch-- if he hurried, he could reach the main street and catch the late bus before it sped away; it would certainly shorten his traveling time to the outskirts of Zion that housed the famed Akademy building. Not by much, but any shortcut was appreciated.

The Akademy itself, the second most important building in all of Zanark after the luxurious courthouse that played host to the Terran Council annual gatherings, was a large comely red-brick building surrounded by extensive grounds for combat training located in the spacious suburbs of Zion. It lay a good half-hour away, by bus, from the glittering downtown metropolis of the fabled capital, shrouded in the secretive reclusion of its encircling high walls and its late-night patrols by dogs and security guards alike designed for the utmost secrecy of its operation. Its purpose-- drilling about two hundred select youths, aged seven to eighteen who had exhibited inherent prowess in their weaponry of choice and general battle arts, in hopes that the grand majority would join the few elite worthy of ZIFE candidature and master the riddles of espionage. A harvesting ground for ZEG recruits, status that only a very talented and privileged few would ever achieve. Every young boy's childhood dream; the noble defense of the worldwide Terran peace and the prestige associated with belonging to the elite organization.

But appearances were deceiving; the state-of-the-art Akademy was a costly investment and the few students that demonstrated exciting potential were often penniless, so the chivalrous ideals ZEG had been founded on had soon been corrupted by money and greed and it had become little more than a mercenary force that dispatched agents in exchange for Zanarkads. This was the Akademy Zephyr had stumbled into, one run by the hunger for power and money of the ZEG heads and not the benevolent wishes of the aging Headmaster Rayn; one where students were encouraged to be unfeeling automatons that obeyed every supreme ZEG order without question and accepted every approved lucrative mission without a second glance. Austere training sessions and rigorous academic controls were designed to root out unworthy Akademy candidates and those that didn't exhibit ZIFE-exam competence by age eighteen were promptly dismissed to make way for younger possibilities. Yes, it was a hard life with very little freedom, but Zephyr preferred it to his home life. He actually welcomed the fact that he wasn't the judge of right and wrong or good and evil, that all he had to do was solve another's problems and not worry about his own. He hadn't joined the Akademy seduced by its gallant illusory appeal; he'd been searching for an escape from his life, which he'd found in the rigidity of its regulations.

Lost in his reminiscence as he walked, Zephyr barely realized his feet had taken him to the tall oak tree beside one of the Akademy walls. He had walked all the way here and hadn't even noticed; it had become so routine in his weekend escapades to visit Storm that he no longer needed to think about the route. He had grown so accustomed to this clandestine prowling back and forth that the lengthy walk to the Akademy from the extensive Zion alleyways no longer seemed long. It was actually a welcomed break from the boisterous organized chaos (heh, what an oxymoron Leonstrife; organized chaos… his inner voice noted) of Akademy life, a time where he could think in peace without Reed's obnoxious interruptions. With a weary sigh, Zephyr checked his watch—it was an hour after the designated lights out time, and if he were to be caught out of bed or worse yet out of the Akademy without a permit, he'd be in immeasurable trouble.

Glancing shortly at the stout oak branches that crisscrossed haphazardly over his head, he began climbing resolutely up the tree's aging bark with expert deftness. His heavy boots slid easily across the brittle bark, lodging themselves securely against the knots on the twisted trunk as his hands sought protrusions to grasp and use to ascend. In less than a minute, Zephyr was atop the tree, creeping cautiously along a bulky branch that hung mere inches from the Akademy's wall. With a careful measured jump, he landed soundlessly atop the wall, the branch shaking lightly behind him. Zephyr warily scanned the darkened ground below him for any sign of student or dog and after finding none leapt off and landed with a crunch of feet hitting grass beside a bush in the training field. It was a good fifteen meters of a jump, but the lush greenness of the field acted as a feathery buffer to break the fall. Ducking a moment behind the bush to avoid the threat of a surveillance camera that scanned the grounds, Zephyr hastily covered the distance that separated him from the darkened refuge of the main building. Pressing himself against the wall and hidden by the building's shadows he crept unnoticed to the back of the building, where the dorm windows faced.

He glanced up at the façade littered with opened windows and positioned himself under the first-floor ledge of the column of windows that would lead to his room. Thankfully, all was dark so his ascension would be uneventful. With a dexterous jump and a muted curse he grabbed the first ledge and pulled himself onto it with a jaded grunt. Pausing briefly to wipe his brow of perspiration, Zephyr again jumped and clutched the second-floor ledge, grateful for his six-foot stature. It was an excruciating experience, pulling oneself up three floors with nothing but one's own arm strength; he could feel the muscles in his arms quivering from the exertion, ready to give out any moment. Come on Leonstrife, don't be a wimp; you've done this a million times, you should be able to do it with your eyes closed, he scolded inwardly. With a frustrated growl, he reached up to the third-floor sill of his window, ready to complete his arduous ascent. He could already feel his fingertips grazing the cool marble, seeking the right grip to pull his body up once more when the light in the room he was standing by snapped on with a thunderous click. Zephyr shrank back against the wall in a futile attempt at concealment and prayed whoever had turned on the light-- whose steps seemed directed at the window-- would not look out.

"Hey, Dwight, where ya goin'?" came a sleepy voice from within the dormitory.

The approaching steps ceased as Dwight turned to answer his roommate. "I thought I heard something out there; I'm goin' to check it out."

A derisive snort rang lightly throughout the room. "You're crazy man, there's nothin' out there. Get back to sleep; we've got that stupid Saturday class tomorrow."

Zephyr waited with bated breath for the hesitant steps to retrace their path and return to bed. As suddenly as the light had clicked on, it clicked off and the room was immersed in darkness once again. Wiping at the cold sweat that poured down his forehead, Zephyr hastily gripped the sill of his window and pulled himself atop it, sliding noiselessly through its open frame and landing with a muted thud onto his carpeted floor. He glanced around the pitch-black room, forcing his eyes to adjust quickly to the dark and enable him to find his bed without stumbling over his roommate's possessions, which tended to be haphazardly strewn across the floor. Tuning his keen ears to the slightest sound, he could hear nothing but the deafening sound of silence, so he assumed his roommate Reed was asleep or still out at one of his famed late-night parties. Tiptoeing towards his bed on the far side of the room, Zephyr congratulated himself on yet another successful escapade and struggled to remember the location of the creaking floorboard to avoid stepping on it. When he was but a foot away from his bed, he heard a soft click and turned to find Reed, awake and fully clothed, shining a flashlight on him. So he was indeed back-- that was unusual, he must have been up to something.

"Coming back a little late, aren't we Zephyr?" he inquired with a sneer. Reed never missed an opportunity to pick on his rival; it seemed to be the very essence of his life.

Zephyr shielded his eyes from the bright light and shrugged. He wasn't in the mood for a verbal spar with Reed; as satisfying as outwitting him was, he had other things to think about. But it seemed as though their antagonism won out over everything else and they were involuntarily drawn into constant battles of their wits, which Zephyr more often than not won. Sarcasm was a way of life for him. "Likewise Reed. In case you didn't notice, your clothes are still on," he retorted with biting sarcasm.

Reed grinned wider, satisfaction twinkling in his green eyes. He knew he could taunt Zephyr into an argument; it was an adrenaline discharge they both sought and relished in. The satisfaction of the male ego, Instructor Blade called it; to them it was just the desire to overpower the other. "Like them? They're just like yours; I followed you."

Zephyr rolled his eyes. "Figures. You're always trying to be me," he said, shrugging and turning around to face his bed and its contents. This was so typical of Reed; in all the years they'd been enemies, Reed had never been very original in his attempts to oust Zephyr's Akademy supremacy. Though he had to admit Reed's presence made Akademy life all the more interesting, not because of his foolish antics which proved to be quite the amusement for the student populace, but because his innate fighter's skills made training sessions more of a challenge. They were both skilled gunbladesmen and snipers, they both competed for the top grades, and they were both taking the ZIFE exam a year before everyone else; they were both essentially whom every student wanted to be. And they both knew the other almost as well as they did themselves. But despite the hype about Reed's skills, Zephyr doubted he would pass the exam; he somehow always failed to follow orders and did as he pleased, getting himself and everyone in his team in danger. That was not a positive attribute for a member of ZEG.

Reed's face darkened, his sea-green eyes turning a dangerous dark shade. He wasn't about to let Zephyr insult him like that; ha, wanting to be like that worthless runt? He looked like a girl for crying out loud; who'd want to be like that? Zephyr really had to be delirious; besting him was one thing, wanting to be him was completely different. "It's not every day we see our dearly beloved Akademy ace violating rules by jumping the wall, so I decided to follow you. We can't be having you in trouble," he retorted with fake concern.

"Oh, I'm so honored you care," Zephyr answered in mock compassion as he opened his gunblade case and ran a finger across Punishment's shimmering mythril blade. The flashlight's glare reflected off it, scattering the white light into a kaleidoscope of fragmented colors. "So, if you followed me I assume you know where I went," he commented offhandedly, lifting the heavy weapon easily and running a rag over his gunblade's lean and strong frame. He wanted to know how much Reed knew, and if he posed a threat to his mission.

Reed shrugged his broad shoulders as he shifted his weight to sit more comfortably on his bed. "Actually, I got bored of you meandering aimlessly through the alleyways and went to 'Fate' instead," he replied with a yawn. His interest in a spoken quarrel with Zephyr was waning fast; now he was more interested in sleep. Perhaps he'd had one too many drinks at the bar.

"I see; very you Reed, trading tracking for a drink. I'm betting ZEG's going to be lining up at your doorstep to get you to do their missions," Zephyr commented nonchalantly, flipping Punishment's twinkling blade over to polish the other side. "So, how'd you get back? Jumping the wall must be quite amusing when you're drunk."

"Through the door actually," Reed replied, an arrogant enigmatic smirk playing proudly on his lips.

Zephyr ceased his cleaning labor and looked at him with an arched eyebrow. Getting back to the Akademy without a permit, in any way, wasn't as simple as strolling leisurely through the main gate. You would be stopped by security before you set a foot on the training fields, questioned about your whereabouts, and even taken to the Headmaster for a decision on the fate of your Akademy studies. The institution was very strict with its rules; if you couldn't obey a simple curfew, how could an employer trust you to carry out your task? Rule violations were often met with expulsion, and Zephyr was sure even Reed didn't actively seek that. He had definitely done something sneaky.

Reed took note of his rival's arched brow and smirked cockily. His interest in a confrontation with Zephyr was piqued again by the prospect of his outsmarting. He pulled out a small black rectangle from underneath the sheets and proudly held it up. It was the wireless laptop that every ZIFE candidate was provided with. "I jammed the security system… it's probably still not showing any movement. I'm surprised you didn't think of it, being the super student you are and all," he said with disdain. He was basking in the satisfaction of having beat Zephyr to something, though with his almost-nightly adventures, he had become an expert at avoiding security.

"Had to travel light. I didn't even take my gunblade… but I have it now," Zephyr countered with a shrug and a sneer as, in an imperceptible fluid movement, Punishment's mythril tip found its way to the crook of Reed's neck. The razor sharpness of the long knife-like blade priced at the soft skin on his neck, threatening to draw blood at any brusque movement.

Reed shrank slowly back against the pillows until he hit the wall, feeling the smooth edge of the mythril-encased titanium blade tracing a shallow cut across the side of his neck. As much as he liked taunting Zephyr and pushing their rivalry to its limits, he was smart enough to back down when Zephyr was armed. You just didn't mess with an armed Zephyr, especial if you yourself were weaponless and defenseless. Reed knew Zephyr wouldn't harm him in an unfair situation such as this-- he was too proud to take advantage of adversity-- but there was still something chilling in the self-satisfied sneer and mocking look that adorned his face in the dim luminescence of the flashlight. Perhaps it was the lack or light or the fact that the cold mythril of Punishment's blade now hovered millimeters from his neck, but the first tingles of fear were beginning to inch uneasily down Reed's spine.

He hated to admit it, and cursed it after every training duel as he nursed his wounds, but Zephyr wielded the gunblade much faster, better, and more gracefully than he did. It was as if the four-foot blade were a mere natural extension of his arm, moving with a speed and deadly precision wherever Zephyr willed it to go in a spectacular show of mastery. Watching him train or battle with it was like watching a seasoned dancer in his best performance—his movements were rhythmic, nonchalant, and smooth, and he switched from one move to the next or suddenly changed his maneuvering midair with a calm fluidity and quickness coveted by all. An intended upward arc could become a ground sweep in the blink of an eye. In their duels, Reed was always on the defensive, parrying his lightning-quick and unpredictable thrusts with an impressive array of acrobatic flips and jumps. The infrequent times Zephyr decided to spar with his rival became an all-out Akademy show, and a large crowd gathered in the gym to watch the immaculate silvery of Punishment's blade contend with the novel blackness of Reed's carbon-fiber Lealtad. A soft knock on the door rang throughout the silent room, snapping Zephyr out of his almost trance-like state. Tossing Punishment onto his bed, he turned and approached the heavy wooden door.

"Yes?" he called out softly to the other side. He was hoping it would be one of Reed's multiple late-night 'adventures'; that he could even tolerate. They proved to be quite fun, once you got over the fact that it meant no sleep. Whoever designed Akademy dormitories wasn't big on privacy.

"Everything alright in there? The students next door reported some disturbance," came the somewhat hesitant response from the other side of the door. Zephyr rolled his eyes and peered through the peephole—it was one of the Akademy's security patrol officers, not looking much older than himself. Great; he didn't want to have to deal with this, those guys were a pain to get rid of. At least he had his reputation going for him.

"Yeah, everything's fine. My roommate just had a nightmare, nothing major. He's awake now," Zephyr replied amicably. Disturbance? That little altercation with the gunblade? Nah, he mused sarcastically, silently cursing Reed for being such a wimp and having backed into the wall.

"Are you sure? Maybe I should come in," the security officer insisted meekly. This was, after all, the room that housed the Zephyr Leonstrife and his troublesome rival Reed. Why the Headmaster would board those two together was beyond him; he would have roomed them individually on opposite sides of the Akademy. Nonetheless, this was his job, but he was hoping there would be no need to go in. The mere thought of entering that room was unnerving.

Zephyr shot Reed an annoyed scowl, who shrugged innocently and walked up to the door beside him. They would be taken to the Headmaster, likely even expelled despite their unsurpassed prowess and subtle faculty favoritism, if they were found out of bed and dressed in street clothes past lights-out time. Reed tousled his long hair with his hands and half-closed his eyes, cracking the door open just enough to poke his head outside. "No, that's okay, it won't be necessary. I was just having a bad dream, talking in my sleep, tossing and turning on the bed. I must have hit the wall; that's probably what the students next door heard. I'm *yawn* fine now, goodnight officer," he said sweetly, fake sleepiness in his voice.

The security officer did not look overly convinced-- this was Reed-- but after a quick menacing glare from the green-eyed youth decided to not probe further. As long as those two were in their room without wreaking havoc--with which Reed was quite unusual-- they could do as they pleased. He wasn't about to try to stop them; he had enough common sense to not mess with either of them. Bidding the two students goodnight after another threatening glower from Reed, he continued his patrol of the grounds. Reed shut the door triumphantly and walked back to his bed with a smirk. "What a loser. And those guys are supposed to be security? He nearly wet himself when I stuck my head out!" he commented with a laugh, shaking his head.

Zephyr was silent; something was incongruous here. Whoa, okay, Reed just saved my butt. Well, I could have done it myself but he came to my aid instead of getting me in trouble. Something's definitely up; Reed isn't charitable for no reason, he contemplated, watching his rival stretch and plop himself, fully dressed, onto his bed.

Reed noticed Zephyr's pensive demeanor and shot him an amused look. "Don't flatter yourself Leonstrife; who will I spar with and beat if you're kicked out?" he queried with an arrogant satisfied smirk. So Zephyr had thought it had been for him, when in reality it had just been directed at keeping their antagonism alive a while longer. It really was the essence of Akademy life.

Rolling his eyes, Zephyr gave him the finger, which only made Reed grin wider. He was right; 'Reed' and 'charitable' were not compatible in the same sentence, 'Reed' and 'personal benefit' were. With a shake of his head, he took his black pajama bottoms from underneath his pillow and made his way to their en suite bathroom. Yeah, 'en suite' makes it sound almost luxurious. Yeah right. Whoever coined the term surely hadn't been to an Akademy dorm, he thought with a chuckle as he neatly folded his discarded street clothes and changed into the black shorts he slept in. Tossing them neatly onto a stool in the far corner, Zephyr proceeded to brush his teeth, pick up the small white package he'd received at the tavern, and stride back into the now-darkened bedroom. He could hear the monotonous sound of Reed's light snoring and the insistent chirping of crickets outside. Tiptoeing to his rival's bed, Zephyr poked the sleeping form repeatedly, receiving trademark Reed profanities in response. He was indeed asleep; good, he could go about his business safely.

Zephyr placed Punishment carefully back in its velvety case and pulled out a wireless terminal, identical to the one Reed had used to jam the Akademy's security system, from his desk drawer. Seating silently in his swiveling desk chair, he powered the unit on with a muted beep and soundlessly peeled open the white packaging that enveloped the mysterious mission aide he'd received. He was actually quite curious as to what it could be, how something so minute was supposed to help him assassinate the President. Much to his surprise all he found was a small silicon chip clinging to one of the corners of the packaging. Picking it up for closer inspection, he let out a low impressed whistle. This wasn't just any chip; it was a micron transmitter, the most advanced method of information storage and communication. The diminutive device in itself could store over a million gigabytes of data that could actively be input or updated by the computer that had created it, as well as serve as an immediate high-speed communication link to the source PC. Virtually un-hackable, the stored data was surrounded by a firewall that would take more than the Aerian and Zanarkist militaries put together to break down; it was the safest information-transfer mechanism-- and as Zephyr knew, astronomically expensive. ZEG had numerous transmitters, but then again, ZEG was richer than the Zanarkist government.

With an almost child-like anticipation and excited wonder, Zephyr picked up the micron transmitter and inserted it into the aperture at the back of his standard ZEG-issue laptop. A message from the Boss popped up on his screen, detailing the use of the microchip, succeeded by a three-dimensional model of the Presidential Mansion he was to infiltrate in two weeks. Man, these guys are really serious. They must've devoted so much time to compiling this. Locations of every security camera, temperature sensor, movement sensor, infrared scanner, lift camera, and retinal scanner in the building. Not to mention the customary patrol areas of the various security guards, alongside their shift times, break times, and relief times, he thought in amazement, sifting through the various features and invaluable data contained in the transmitter.

I can even zoom in to any one room for an overview of its appearance and a detailed look at its security. There's the President's office right there; let's see… infrared movement detectors, sound sensors, temperature sensors… and the deactivating panel by the door. Not bad for the most powerful man alive, but not enough to intimidate ZEG's golden boy. Shouldn't be all that hard; much less than I thought, he asserted confidently, jotting short notes on a pad of paper he had beside his wireless terminal.

And I'll be able to help Storm when I'm done; I'll be able to get her away from that woman that dares call herself a mother, he reminded himself, I have to complete this mission the best I can, for her sake. She deserves better. Pencil in hand, he glanced pensively over at his rival's sleeping form. Reed would have enjoyed the mission, every single extravagant aspect of it. The excitement, the risk, the adrenaline rushes associated with a covert operation, the exorbitant pay, the fact that failure would mean death, the technological contraptions, the exhilaration of success. That was Reed, living in the moment, making the most of every second he had despite the austerity of the environment he lived in. Whilst everyone displayed utmost obedience, he engaged in flagrant rule-breaking for the sheer excitement of it, each late-night escapade growing bolder and more audacious with the risky thrill of being caught. Expulsion was an added peril that made it all the more fun rather than a deterrent.

Perhaps he would have been a superior election for the mission Zephyr had been commended; they were almost matched in skill and dexterity and, though Zephyr was better, Reed had that nonchalant carefree edge of a man that has no real reason to live. He had nothing holding him back, no reason to doubt his actions or worry about the repercussions; he lived for no one but himself. Zephyr briefly wondered why the Boss had sought him out instead of Reed; yes, he was definite ZEG material, but Reed also had quite the reputation. If only he could learn to abide by rules established by someone other than himself, he'd be as sure a ZEG bet as Zephyr was himself. He'd do this mission in a heartbeat, that's for sure, but for all the wrong reasons. He's an orphan with no family left; he doesn't have to witness his younger sister growing more emaciated with each visit. For him, this mission would just be the money, the fun, the risk, and he'd probably fit in the chicks too, he thought ruefully, watching Reed's chest rise and fall with the steady carefree peacefulness of slumber. It was the first time in six years of enmity that he actually felt a pang of jealousy when looking at his rival. Once, just once, he wanted to be in Reed's shoes with not a care in the world but whom his next late-night companion was going to be.

Stifling a yawn and shaking himself out of his introspection, Zephyr turned back to the virtual perimeter of the Mansion in front of him. Now was not the time to yearn for the unburdened life of someone else; it was the time to take his life and take it where it had to go to help his sister. If it required shooting a defenseless man on a stand, the President of his country, from a nearby rooftop, then by Zanark he'd do it. He was the best operative and sharpshooter the Akademy had to offer, it shouldn't be too effortful to fire a certain shot and end the life of a man; it was plain and simple and unequivocal. He couldn't have been more wrong or more unaware of the turn his life was about to take.

***

R&R!