The scandal continues: see the beginning for all disclaimers.

~ * Part Twelve: Cold Calculations (Plotting and Preparation) * ~

As the afternoon sky traded its clear cerulean hue for a rich shade of purple, so did the frost-haired child who called herself Sairen Shimoha shed her current identity for another more befitting the night.

She had long ceased spying upon the Hop Mart for the day: after her robattle with Samantha, little else of interest had occurred inside. Less than an hour after Samantha had reentered the shop, all of the children had exited and gone their separate ways. Sairen had hung around long enough to observe their departure, searching for any possible weaknesses.

She had picked up on several details that intrigued her, but until she uncovered more information, she was choosing simply to file it away for later.

Samantha had been the first to leave, not surprisingly: equally unsurprising was the nasty grimace the girl's face was twisted into, the anger blazing in her deep turquoise eyes. Sairen took all this in from the cover of the shadowed alleyway, watching the supposed girlfriend of Tenryou storm past in silence.

She was unafraid of being spotted and challenged again. Sairen was fully aware that Samantha's medabot, the fiery CAT-type, had departed after their robattle. There had been some temptation to seize this opportunity and forge ahead with the plan, but the frost-haired girl understood the need for patience.

Timing was everything. Better not to make a move that could break the plan before it even began.

So she waited, and watched. A few minutes after Samantha passed by, the male members of the Screws gang followed, much as Sairen had expected. She noted with mild interest that one of the boys, the taller one with dark spiked hair, had called his medabot out and was desperately trying to get said medabot's attention. The blue DOG-type appeared awfully depressed, for its head was hung and shoulders slumped as it trudged along beside its confused and upset medafighter.

Sairen was uncertain what had caused the DOG-type's melancholy. However, she recalled from reports that his medafighter was not particularly skilled when it came to robattling. She assumed that it was as probable an explanation as any: a poor battle partner would spark gloom in most medabots.

She scarcely took note of the heavyset boy with them, dismissing the gang as a whole. While it was possible their involvement with Samantha could cause problems once the plan was underway, neither boy had proven a major threat in the past. They were simply a small part of a larger group of troublemakers, barely worth noting by themselves.

There was strength in numbers. It was just that some of that particular number were stronger than others.

The next ones to depart were a reminder of that. A limousine of a very distinctive color pulled up in front of the Hop Mart, and six more meddlers boarded: a trio of kids and their trio of medabots. Sairen had little doubt that the boys would not have been caught dead getting into a pink car had it not been for the pretty redhead walking between them.

Sairen's lips curled slightly in a disdainful grimace as she recalled the scene. It appeared that the girl, Karin, had splurged on new meda-parts for her nurse medabot. The boys had opted to carry all her parcels for her, enlisting the help of their own medabots to carry what they couldn't.

From the sheer amount of packages they had stuffed into the limousine, the redhead could have armed an entire army of medabots if she so chose.

The girl had then invited the boys to join her inside the car, and they eagerly did so, squeezing inside as best they could. Both males alternated between glaring evilly at the other and smiling sweetly at the girl as their ride departed.

Sairen shook her head at the memory, pale eyes glittering faintly as she opened them slightly. She failed to understand what appeal the redhead held for the boys. Unless, of course, they liked the combination of lots of money and little mind…

Afterwards, the last of the troublemakers had left the shop: the female junior reporter and her Sailor Multi medabot. Sairen had noted that the medabot seemed affected by some odd melancholy, but saw no explanation other than the fact that her partner was also in a funk.

All for the better. Sairen cared little for their personal problems, so long as they didn't interfere with her own plans.

There had been little reason to stick around the Hop Mart after the reporter's departure, so Sairen had quickly taken her leave as well. She was not particularly fond of the young man that worked there, and so departed rather than enter and attempt to learn more about what had transpired.

Now she had a meeting of her own that she must attend. The frost-haired girl shed her jacket, blouse and faded jeans, unrolling the thin, dark material that she wore underneath.

While the Rubberobo uniforms were much ridiculed by many of its enemies, there were certain aspects of the common attire that were quite ingenious. The slick, pitch black rubber/spandex hybrid material used for the basic uniform was surprisingly comfortable once you adjusted to the strangeness of pulling on the stretchy suit. It was dark enough to blend in with any shadows, and left only the wearer's hands and face uncovered. Plus, it was thin enough that it could be hidden underneath most clothing, allowing for quick changes if the situation demanded.

The sunglasses were also useful in concealing one's identity. If you believed the saying that the eyes serve as windows to the soul, then the shades blocked any chance of any acquaintances they happened to run into from peering inside and glimpsing anything familiar.

In short, the uniforms made it nearly impossible for the wearer to be identified: it was simply too much of a drastic change. So long as the member carefully safeguarded their secrets, the chance of anybody figuring out the connection between any one Rubberobo and somebody they passed on the street was practically nil.

The girl who called herself Sairen Shimoha pulled her suit's built-in hood up carefully. This particular feature was the one she found most useful: to her frustration, her frost-pale blond hair and equally icy eyes were distressingly memorable. However, with the dark sunglasses concealed said eyes quite nicely, while the hood covered her snowy locks. Only a few bangs remained uncovered, poking out just beneath the twin bronze antennae that announced her rank to her peers.

Her high rank was one of the few benefits of the recent WRC debacle. Prior to that damnable incident, while Sashimi had garnered respect from those few who knew of her particular assignment, afterwards her position had become markedly more crucial to the Rubberobo gang's survival. Hence, the new pair of antennae that served as her 'tiara'.

A smirk ghosted over Sashimi's features, her cold eyes glittering unseen behind her sunglasses.

(To think there was a time when I was passed over for major assignments such as that Stockholm Fire deception. Not that it upset me… that much.)

In light of how that particular plan had turned out, perhaps she should have been involved. Considering how the Tenryou boy and his companions had reacted at first upon learning that their crushes were Rubberobo members – then reacted once they learned the bigger secret behind the deception – her presence might have given them the edge it would have required.

But powerful female members of the Rubberobo gang were quite rare. Attractive female Rubberobos could be even more difficult to find, depending on what standards one searched by.

There were several reasons Sashimi had been passed over for one of the slots on the Stockholm Fire team. At the time it was being conceived and created, she was already assigned to her primary role for the Rubberobo gang, a very important position in itself – even more so given their current situation. It had taken plenty of time to set her up, and transferring would raise too many questions.

Also – while she was pretty, her slate blue eyes already had a certain icy edge that could possibly offset some of her charm.

Not that she minded. From what she had seem, the Stockholm Fire team wore outfits that were not entirely suited to her taste. Not to mention that their medabots were all but useless in a real robattle.

That was entirely the fault of their medafighters. The trio had been foolish enough to believe their plot meant they would not have to bother training for robattle. While it was true pulling the scam off properly meant they rarely fought their opponents, had they kept up their training, they would not have been rendered entirely defenseless once they were exposed.

Sashimi felt no pity for 'Annika', 'Siri' and 'Margareta'. The trio had been arrested shortly after their exposure, and with the Rubberobo gang's current state there was no chance they would be rescued from prison. They would never escape whatever fate the justice system had planned for the posers.

It was survival of the fittest. The former members of Stockholm Fire were far from the fittest.

(Not that everyone who remains are all great prizes themselves.)

Making a minute adjustment to her attire, ensuring she looked her absolute best in the dark uniform, Sashimi slid her dark blue and white meda-watch onto one slender wrist and headed off to her meeting.

~ * ~

Shrimplips suppressed a shudder as he nervously cased the hideout for any familiar, if disguised, faces. Seeing none, the small man swallowed hard to fight down the tight, hard knot forming in his throat.

(What am I doing here on my own? I must be insane!)

(…No, wait. I already decided I was insane to stay part of the Rubberobo gang in the first place.)

(Fine, then. I'm insane enough for two people. Hey, I'm a real overachiever, aren't I?)

The chuckle that bubbled from his dry lips at his own private joke was far from mirthful. Shrimplips was glad that his dark glasses concealed the apprehensive darting of his beady eyes from his dark-suited comrades, though his own uniform did little to conceal the sweat rolling down his pale skin.

(Where are Seaslug, Gillgirl and Squidguts when I need them?)

Seaslug, Shrimplips was pretty sure, was with his Caviar girl. While he was likely the only one of their old group that had the chance to escape servitude from the Rubberobo gang, Shrimplips found himself heartily wishing that the fool hadn't taken it.

Not that he begrudged him the chance to get out of the evil organization. It would simply be reassuring to see at least one of his old partners right about then.

"Well, if it isn't the shrimp!" boomed a deep voice from above him.

The lump rising in Shrimplips' throat gave a convulsive jump, and he swallowed hard before slowly looking upward. His heart quickened its pace considerably as his gaze continued to travel up over a thick barrel chest to rest on a sneering face that could only be described as hideous. The nasty smile the taller Rubberobo wore hardly lent his coarse, blunt features any charm.

"Good to see ya, shrimpy!" the thug sneered. "Where's your friends at?"

Shrimplips stared back down at the ground, biting the inside of his lip almost hard enough to draw blood to keep himself from rising to the other's bait. Then a thick foot lanced into his stomach, and there suddenly was the tang of blood in his mouth. The small man crumpled forward, fighting to keep standing. If he fell down, it would just afford his tormentor that much more satisfaction.

"Not so high-and-mighty now that you don't have your friends to hide behind, eh?" the brute snarled, and the side of his hand crashed against the smaller man's face. When Shrimplips still refused to reply, the thug frowned, then brought his hand back again and balled it into a fist, growling, "C'mon, why don't you cry, baby?!"

A gunshot rang out, and the crowded room instantly went silent. The thug reeled, clutching his raised wrist with his other hand in an attempt to staunch the blood that flowed from the fresh wound in his arm. A jagged shard now jutted from his wrist.

"Come on… Why don't you cry, baby?" Sashimi echoed the ruffian's earlier words in her deathly calm, frigid tone.

Behind her, a medabot crouched in the shadows, almost completely concealed. All that could be seen clearly of the figure was its glowing ice blue eyes – and that its right arm was raised in front of it, something on its wrist hissing faintly in the dead silence.

Sashimi stalked toward the ruffian, the crowd of Rubberobos allowing her through without a single word of protest. Self-preservation was a major trait practically all members had in common, and considering the girl's medabot shadow had just stuck an ice shard in the thug's wrist, none were particularly willing to risk their own limbs.

Besides, despite the girl's petite frame, the icy glare she leveled up at the thug could be felt even through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

"I do hope you come up with a believable public excuse for your injury," she told the brute calmly. "It would be rather sad if you were exposed simply because you have difficulty reining in your nasty temper and poor sense of judgement."

The brute seethed with rage – but did not raise a hand against the girl. Her twin antennae signified she was higher ranked than he was, and could make could on any threats she made – just as the medabot who had injured him so readily had shown.

Sashimi's frigid glare bore into the brute as he backed away. Behind her, Shrimplips staggered to his feet, clutching at his aching stomach. Sashimi did not so much as glance down at the little man, as her icy gaze swept across to the rest of the gathered members.

"Surely all of you must see the folly of turning against your own comrades now," she declared, her calm voice echoing clearly through the otherwise silent room. "In the wake of the disaster at the World Robattle Cup, there should be no tolerance of petty infighting. Just because you don't happen to find your company all that pleasant does not mean you have the right to turn against them. None of us have that luxury."

Ripples of muted conversation rumbled through the gathered Rubberobos as they considered her words. Sashimi paused long enough to let the mumbling die down, then forged ahead.

"If the Rubberobo gang is to survive, we must work together – no matter how deplorable you may find some of your comrades. Indeed, the livelihood – or rather, the lives of each person here depends on the cooperation of your companions. We are all that remain of the once glorious gang… To regain that former glory, we must be prepared for any contingency."

The rumblings grew louder, and Sashimi motioned for silence.

"We have the ability to rebuild, and rebuild we shall. Already the wheels have been set in motion. Obstacles that have plagued us in the past will be removed, problems solved, enemies dealt with. Many of our most precious resources remain undiscovered by those who would destroy us, and we shall use them to our full advantage. We are the Rubberobo gang, and we will never be vanquished by petty setbacks!"

The crowd began to cheer, and Sashimi turned away and stalked out of the chamber, Shrimplips trailing behind her.

"We cannot allow the errors of the past to go unchecked," she murmured, more to herself than to her companion. "Thankfully, it seems that the most persistent of our problems has given us something vital to use against them…"

"You mean those meddling kids, don't you?" piped Shrimplips.

"Indeed," Sashimi nodded once. Removing her shades from her closed eyes, she rubbed the lenses with a cloth while she continued, "In a few days we will be ready to take the wheel and steer the brats away from the path they have already unknowingly set down for us. They will continue to play directly into our hands… I'll make certain of that."

"Good. But, um… Why wait?" Shrimplips asked uncertainly.

"Simple."

Sashimi turned to face her partner, and the cold expression on her face sent chills down his spine. Her eyes were half-open, slits of frosted steel revealing a will just as strong and frigid. The faintest smile ghosted over her lips, but failed to touch her icy eyes.

"I can't afford to miss a single day of class, now can I?"