"Are we to understand that you failed your task?"
Mystique flinched. The voices that came through the earpiece were flat, booming, old. The weight of each and every word rang in her ears. The accusation damned her more and more with each second. She lowered her voice, masking the sickening weight of fear that began to grip her stomach.
"That is correct" She knew what was to come.
"We do not appreciate failure," said a voice.
"The adamantium was to be reported stolen," said another
"Your incompetence has disrupted our preparations for the return of the Angels," said another voice.
"There never was any need to go to such lengths!" Mystique pleaded, trying to pacify the old men somehow. "Gehirn and NERV will soon merge, why would we need to steal from ourselves?" Mystique felt a throbbing in her head. She saw a creeping blackness at the periphery of her vision. Could it be they were attacking her mind, as well?
"Our wisdom is not for you to question!" shouted another voice, this one sounded older and more forceful than the others. "Were it not for your.. biological assets to humanity...." Mystique felt the throbbing grow stronger. She clenched her fists so tightly that the receiver she was holding began to crack. She closed her eyes now, mustering whatever mental strength she had to repel the psychic attack her erstwhile masters at SEELE were throwing at her.
"Your services are no longer necessary. Never cross our path again."
Then everything went silent. She opened her eyes, gazing upon the darkened motel room. The open window brought in the sights and smells of Madripoor. She could see the open ocean a few miles away, the ghostly shadow of a cargo ship silently moving across the waters. The breeze blew in and brought with it the smell of oil, smoke and sewage. She slumped against the bed, breathing out a long sigh. She was out of a job again, it seems. Just as well, she thought. Some bosses are complete assholes.
Elsewhere, in a place not of reality, or in a place of a separate reality, twelve black steel monoliths appeared in the void. Each monolith was of the same size and shape, the word SEELE emblazoned in bright, glowing red letters. Each monolith had a number in the same red letters. A voice emanated from the seventh monolith.
"Her failure has set us back too far"
The fifth monolith spoke "It seems we cannot utilize this adamantium to our own uses"
"Ikari will continue to hold such a valuable asset in his hands. We entrust so much to a single man" said the tenth.
The ninth monolith added "already we are going to give him NERV, as well as control of the original Lance, and Lilith herself. If he were to betray us..."
"Ikari has served us well. He has been as valuable as a brother to us," said the third monolith. Finally, the monolith marked as 01 spoke, as the others paid a respectful silence to the first among equals.
"Ikari will not have total freedom. We will be with him in body and spirit. We will sit in judgement over him. Continue our preparations. The Angels will come. We will triumph, and on the day of promise, we shall render the gates of Heaven itself asunder, in the Complementation of Man."
The other voices murmured their support. "However, no one may interfere in our plans. The reason for this particular failure must be punished."
Then all twelve monoliths disappeared instantateously. Then all there was,was the blackness of the void.
New GinzaThe buzzing pierced her sweet darkness, forcing Misato awake. "Gwannaholdonnadammitinuteeeeee" she mumbled, with increasing frequency and loudness, as she first opened her eyes, stretched her arms and legs, then rolled off the mattress, knocking over an ashtray in the process. Cursing, she got on all fours, her hands groping around,searching for something on the floor. Her hands felt the hard denim, grabbed it, then she roughly ran her hands over it, her eyes refusing to open, trying to identify it with touch alone.
The buzzing continued. The clock on the wall said it was either midnight or noon. There was no way to tell with the heavy curtains. Morning sunlight was such an annoyance.
She had identified the item of clothing as a pair of jeans. She groped her way around, found a chair, and sat on it as she tried to stick both legs through the correct holes. The buzzing continued. She recognized the sound as her door buzzer. "Comiiiiiiing...coming!!!". Not bothering to even search for her bra and t-shirt, she found her red field service jacket thrown in an unsightly heap of old laundry. The buzzing stopped briefly, for all of three seconds, and continued its irritating, unstoppable buzzing. She knew only one person evil enough to not release her finger on a buzzer. She buttoned her jacket up, enough to cover her modesty, as she tip-toed over mounds of old newspapers, bowls of half-eaten ramen noodles, crushed beer cans and random piles of clothing. The buzzing was now mentally echoing in her head, as she opened the door."Took you long enough!" Ritsuko sighed in exasperation.
"Ritsuko??" Misato asked, incredulous "is that you?"
She smiled, deftly sidestepping Misato to enter her apartment. "Gaaach!" Ritsuko theatrically pinched her nose shut as she stepped inside. "How many times did you miss trash collection day? Six?" Misato scowled at the insult. She had only missed three. Then she realized the change in her friend
"You're blonde now?"
"Like it?" Ritsuko asked, self-consciously brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. "It does make me look younger. I think I'm going to keep it".
"Think it'll convince the men that you're not an ice queen, Doctor Akagi?" Misato asked with a snide tone in her voice.
"Men? Waste my time on men? I'm not you, Misato. It's for me, not the men, or you, or anyone else. And I am NOT an ice queen," She raised her voice a little at that last sentence. Misato made a tactical retreat.
"What brings you here?"
"I'm bored with it all, Misato. Almost a year underground in the Geofront under Tokyo-03 trying to get everything working before we hand it over to you barbarians, who would probably just leave empty beer cans all over the corridors....." Misato bit her lip. Ritsuko continued "so I figured I'd take a day off,come over here, and see if you're interested in having lunch on me? Of course, you'd probably want to shower first?..."
"I'm right on it!" Misato practically leaped over the mounds of junk in her apartment.
An hour later, the two women were sitting down in one of the sidewalk cafes that peppered New Ginza. The meal was pricey, but Ritsuko merely shrugged it off, saying that she had to do something with all the unused money she was accumulating.
"How's your mother?" Misato asked, gulping down a large capuccino.
"Naoko's fine. We're working together trying to finish the MAGI supercomputers on time for the handover."
"You call her Naoko now?"
"It's her name, Misato." Ritsuko replied flatly.
"Yeah, but she's your mother," Misato protested.
"And her name is Naoko, OK? Will you let me finish?" Ritsuko asked with some hint of irritation in her voice.
"Anyway, finish the MAGI? What do you mean?" asked Misato.
"Mother... Naoko is a genius, it's like, she's going to do five breakthroughs before breakfast, everyday! We're leaving the other MAGI development teams worldwide in the dust! In fact, at this rate, Gehirn would probably just hand the entire process over to us."
"Sounds like you're proud of her," Misato said.
"She's a great scientist." Ritsuko said, deadpan.
"Hey Ritsuko.."
"What?"
"What will you do after the handover? What's going to happen to Gehirn Labs?"
Ritsuko smiled, one of those thin-lipped, almost evil ones that made Misato nervous. "We'll be around."
"How's your head now?" asked Misato.
"Misato, that was almost a year ago! I'm fine, really!"
"Good to hear, cause when we find that bitch..."
Ritsuko only shook her head.
"You won't. You never will"
"Eh? Why?"
Ritsuko took out a cigarette from her purse. Biting hard on the filter, she lit it with a coin-sized electric lighter, just one of the side applications of Gehirn research. She took deep puffs, blowing out the smoke out of her nostrils. Misato knew her well enough to understand that the action was a signal she wasn't going to talk about it.
"Misato.."
"Yeah?"
"Looking forward to graduation? Still going to join NERV?"
She set her coffee cup down, a firm resolve reflecting from her eyes. "Yes. I've asked for a battle shift position too."
Ritsuko bowed her head sadly, a mixture of sadness and pity evident in her expression.She bit harder on her cigarette.
"Gee, Ritsuko, you look like I told you I have cancer! Cheer up! It's not like I'm signing up to pilot an Eva!" she jovially said, a hand reaching out to give her friend a reassuring pat.
In a small voice, barely audible even to herself, Ritsuko sighed out " I tried...", then resignedly smiled. There was one other thing to ask, though.
"About your apartment, Misato"
"What about it?"
"I didn't see Kaji-kun's clothes lying around."
It was now Misato's turn to hang her head low, strands of her hair slipped forward as she bowed her head, hiding part of her face from view. "I had him leave, permanently." She brought her cup to her lips, then drained the coffee residues from the bottom of the cup. "Neh, I think I should order a beer," she continued.
"No you don't." Ritsuko hissed. She's not going to let Misato start one of her binges again.
"Found proof of philandering?" Ritsuko probed.
"No. I just told him to go."
"You're a strange woman, Katsuragi Misato." Ritsuko gave up.
Her pager beeped inside her blouse pocket. She fished out the credit-card
thin device. She'd insisted on some measure of privacy, leaving behind
her satellite phones, laptops and even her usual datapad, but her superiors
were aghast at having one of their lead scientists incommunicado even for
a day. As she checked her pager, she stood up, handing Misato a wad of
fresh Yen notes out of her handbag. "Could you, please?" she asked. "Naoko
says its urgent. Tell the waitress the balance is her tip."
"Sure, Ritsuko," Misato said. "I'll see you around?"
As Ritsuko hurriedly flagged down a cab, she turned to Misato. "Sooner than you could imagine."
I couldn't even convince her not to join, thought Ritsuko sadly. She worried would happen when she finds out. She had wanted to tell her about the merger, top secrets be damned. It was the honest thing to do, she kept telling herself as she paced up and down the aisles of the train on the way here. But she couldn't. She had adjusted too fast to the culture of secrecy at Gehirn.
On the positive side, it would be interesting, to say the least, to be able to order her around.
Madripoor
He dodged the thrown knife with ease, then lunged forward, his bare fist connecting with his opponent's jaw. The other man took it square in the jaw, spitting out blood as he fell, spinning like a dying top, before his back of his head struck tar with a most satisfactory thud that echoed through the stinking Madripoor alley.
"Who's up for an asskicking?!" Patch yelled, as the other three men warily circling him, the man he just decked lying just outside the circle.One man rushed in, trying to deck his jaw. He brought one hand up, trying to deflect the fist but failing, catching the right hook with his left cheek. He rolled a little with the punch, stinging a little from the blow, as the man who punched him yelled out from surprise and pain. It hurt enough to punch someone with a naturally hard head like Patch, but when that hard head is plated with adamantium, the world's hardest alloy, it hurt bad. Regainin his balance, Patch threw his body at the third man in a diving tackle. He managed to jump out of the way, cursing in Indonesian as Patch immediately tried to land on his feet and spin around. When he had managed to turn around, he found himself facing the wicked glint of a switchblade. He took a fighting stance, facing the knifeman, as the man that tried to punch him staggered into position, trying to flank him. He noted that the third man was hanging back, probably letting the other two soften him up. "C'mon, three to one, I promise I won't kick your asses too hard," he sneered, trying to taunt his opponents into making a mistake.
The knifeman rushed him, rapidly thrusting the air in front of him as his accomplice tried to deliver a flying kick to Patch's midsection. He made a low lunge, going after the knifeman's legs. He wasn't expecting this, and as Patch took him down, he delivered several hard, heavy punches to his opponent's face. He was about to deliver another one when he felt rough arms grab him from behind, a thick and heavy arm snaking around his neck. Retching at the smell and taste of the sweaty arm, he was put into a full nelson lock. Struggling to find leverage, he was surprised how difficult it was for him to simply break from the hold with brute force. Yet another sign of old age. At least, the knifeman still hasn't gotten up.
"Game Over," he said, a little bit too smugly perhaps for a man caught in a headlock, the air rapidly being squeezed out of him. The third man approached them now at a fast walk, stepping over his two unconscious mates, to pull out a slim pistol out of his torn, faded jeans pocket. As his mate yelled at him to shoot Patch, he quickly made his way until they were within arm's reach, then stopped, raising his gun to Patch's forehead.
Then everything went according to plan.
He pulled the trigger, showering Patch's face with blood, brains and other viscera. The dead man dropped instantly. Patch kicked the body for good measure.
"Kaji, you overdramatic asshole," Logan growled, wiping something he doesn't want to identify off his face. "You could have just told him to let go," Kaji only shrugged nonchalantly, putting his gun back in his pocket. "Never liked him anyway," he said, scratching his permanent stubble. "Besides, we've got one cultist each. Fair division of spoils, eh?" Patch just snarled, trying to get the stench of blood and gunpowder out of his enhanced senses. Nearby he could hear a rat skittering closer in the shadows, waiting for the live humans to leave so it can help itself to the dead one. "You're a good man to have in a fight, Patch" Kaji said, as he used something that looked like string, but smelled like metal, to tie the knifeman's hands together.
"What are you going to do with that sack of shit?" Patch asked warily. "Same as you, I guess," Kaji said nonchalantly. "Except I already know what I want to," he said calmly, but Patch knew better. There was an undertone of rage underneath that nonchalance. "Murderin' ain't my style, bub," Patch said in a low growl."Little bird says your interest with 'em," pointing to the dead man, "s'more than professional."
Kaji's cool exterior cracked a little. Just a little. He stood himself up to his full height, arms akimbo. The gun made a bulge in his jeans, but Patch knew that it wasn't because he was happy to see him. "Let's just say, Patch, that some of the folks these people want to murder...."
"Girlfriend, huh?" Patch said, grinning despite himself. He could so easily tell with young people nowadays. There's always some cracking of the voice at the higher registers when people try to deny that part of their lives. Even with mister supercool "freelance reporter" here.
"Ex." Kaji knelt, then with some effort, slung his captive over his shoulder."You won't be seeing these little problems in your back yard very soon now," remarked Kaji.
"Oh?"
"Big fish will be moving to MY back yard. Knifing a few drunk techs over here's not worth it," Kaji said. Staggering a little under the weight, he carried the man, taking steady steps as he made his way out the alley, the locals not batting an eyelash at the sight. When in Madripoor's Lowtown, the saying goes, you won't see anything you're not supposed to see.
Some time later, with his captive safely locked up in the cellar of the Princess Bar, with Jessica Drew asking the man a few questions, Logan made his way up the stairs, remembering to put the Patch persona's eyepatch back on. Patch closed the door behind him, making his way from the back room of O'Donnell's bar to the main area where all the action was. The sight that greeted him was becoming familiar, but he still didn't like the clientele nowadays.
Everywhere he looked, he saw beige uniforms. At the bar, at the tables, beige uniforms dancing with other beige uniforms to the beats of the Filipino jazz band on the floor. A smattering of locals, and some the diehard clientele defiantly kept the colour of the place from turning fully beige. Small mercies count nowadays, with all the NERV personnel flocking here from their strange windowless skyscrapers, the place was losing charm fast.
Right now, the main supplier of charm in Madripoor's Lowtown, O'Donnell himself was beckoning him closer with that look in his eyes.
Sliding himself onto his usual stool, the one that no one in the whole of Madripoor dared to sit on, Logan wordlessly picked up the shot of Jack Daniels that O'Donnell slid across the bar to him. O'Donnell came up to him, drawing his face closer, his own blue eyes reflecting in Patch's brown one.
"Well, Patch? Who're the sad sods wanting to pump sarin gas in here?", he asked.
"Alien-worshipping cult, looks like.With all these customers, " hissed Patch " over here, with no fancy-schmancy security systems, all drunk stupid in here, too big a chance to miss."
"Now why the hell would..."
"Well, way's I see it, if those wackoes worship Angels, and these assholes " said Patch, waving a hand in the general direction of the uniforms, "want to kill them all the minute they come down from God's own Heaven,"
"I get the idea, Patch," O'Donnell said.
"So still think them opening shop here's such a good idea?" Patch asked,
with just a little touch of sarcasm thrown O'Donnell's way. Although it
was true that he was part owner of the Princess Bar, it would be bad business
not to let the uniforms in. Besides, what would the partner say about him
playing bouncer, deciding who stays and goes?
A loud, brash voice interrupted them.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, Kaji Ryoji, freelance newsman, photographer and all-round nice guy, in the house, free drinks on the pretty ladies out of uniform!"
Logan could hear O'Donnell groaning. There were no women out of uniform in here tonight. There was Jessica, but she's downstairs.
"Sod," muttered O'Donnell, as Kaji approached the bar. Patch grunted an affirmation of the opinion. Kaji had managed to change his clothes in the meantime, sporting his now-trademark blue long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the collar button perpetually unclosed. A red tie, stained with soya sauce and sweat, hangs limply from his neck. His stubble gave him a permament blue tinge to his strong square jaws. He strode with the easy confidence, or perhaps reckless abandon, of a man who totally felt at home with his surroundings. An old Leica camera hung from his neck. His bedroom eyes scanned the bar for his target. He made his way to the bar, right up to where Patch sat, then nonchalantly stood there, leaning over to O'Donnell, while his arm made the move he had practiced on countless women, to end up around the back of Patch's neck. He was in half a mind to break it.
"Gimme my Yebisu, O'Donnell, one nice cold jug of it" Kaji casually said. As the harried barkeeper stepped back to find the Japanese beer, Kaji turned to Patch. Bringing his face close to Patch's ear, he whispered unnnecessarily. This close, his very breathing was like the roaring of a tornado to Logan's sensitive ears.
"You always this grouchy, Patch?"
"Only when people annoy me," he replied, raising his glass to his lips, then suddenly stopped.
"You didn't, did you?" Asked Logan, some consternation in his voice. He had hoped that a few words would deter the kid from cold-blooded murder, but if not ...
Kaji smiled, as if amused by the antics of a five-year old. "Why bother? The wise fisherman throws back the little ones."
Logan growled acknowledgement. "Yer done with your .. story?" he asked ,a little hostility deliberately shown at the last word.
"Why of course! My editors would be pleased, " Kaji said, still keeping up an air of casual coolness. Both men knew they weren't talking about stories. There was going to be an exchange, Kaji's information now for Logan's help earlier, and Kaji was here to deliver.
"About the off-record bits?" .. Logan asked, testily, his good eye squinting as a glint of light reflecting from somebody's wristwatch shone on his face.
"They're the real deal all right," Kaji said, his body hunching slightly, "but they don't know they're puppets in somebody else's show."
Logan grunted, indicating to Kaji to continue.
"These people are supposed to get something, from some people," Kaji said, a hand waving in the general direction of the uniforms, "for a third party, with only the mystery party knowing what the hell it is," he continued "Looks like these uniforms have something somebody wants back."
"Back?" asked Logan, trying to fish for more information.
"That's what my sources said,"
"Pretty sure your Deep Throat was a little bit more generous that that, eh?" probed Logan, his eye glancing sideways in a mean look in Kaji's general direction.
"He wasn't."
"You suck at lying, junior"
"Main reason I'm in news, not politics," Kaji sighed theatrically. "Anyway, Patch, a newsman follows the news, and all the big news won't be round here anymore, so I'll leave you alone down here. You won't miss me will you?"
O'Donnell came back, carrying a full jug of the Yebisu beer. "Why the hell do you always want to drink the stuff I keep in the back?" he grumbled in irritation, setting down the jug and an empty glass.
"Join me?" asked Kaji, pointing to the jug.
"Ain't turning down free beer," Logan said, as O'Donnel went off to deal with a uniform demanding one of those triple layerd European cocktails.
"Hey Patch?" Kaji asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Logan turned his good eye on Kaji. "What?"
"Ever heard of an outfit called SEELE?"
"Nope.Why?"
"Just following a lead on another story," Kaji said, still maintaining his cool facade. Logan could smell the sweat as it broke under his collar. It was more than sweat. It was the smell of fear. It was the smell of someone realizing he kew too much.