Disclaimer: Alright, time for the fifth chapter! It looks as though this won't be the last chapter, though. I'm afraid it's going to run six chapters. I was hoping for five, but... oh, well. This chapter, like the last, will be pretty darned weird. Just so you're aware. Oh, and none of these guys belong to me. Almost forgot that part...

Silent Storm
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix
Chapter Five

The small RV was crammed almost to capacity. A red-headed man sat in the black recliner beside the front door, his fingers steepled and his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. Standing beside the recliner was an attractive black-haired woman wearing a form-fitting blue dress. She looked down at the young man brooding beside her, her wet, messy hair falling into her eyes in thin strands. In her right hand she held a tape recorder; the left hand rested on the back of the recliner.

Along the wall to the left of the recliner sat a large black couch. It was currently occupied by a red-haired woman dressed in a thin, pale green pantsuit with a young man on either side of her. Her hair, which usually bobbed around her face in large curls, was also wet and combed straight. It gave her a serious, more severe look.

The man to her right leaned against the arm of the couch, his blond head resting against the wall. He was dressed as though he had been out clubbing recently, his eyes partially hidden behind thin sunglasses and his shirt still hanging half-way open. In one hand he held a cigarette that he occasionally brought to his lips and smoked lazily. The other hand held a can of Kirin.

The young man to the redhead's left looked to be no older than seventeen, but wore the worried look of a man twice that age. His eyes rested on the man leaning forward in the recliner, his eyebrows arched in a manner that gave away his nervous disposition. He had obviously spent most of the wintery day inside at the computer, as was evidenced by the fact that he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts.

Apart from the rest of the RV's occupants, a brown-haired man rustled about in the trailer's little kitchen nook. He still wore the jeans and green jersey that he'd worn to work the flower shop that afternoon, not having bothered to change between then and now. After a few minutes of rummaging through cabinets and the refrigerator, he emerged into the tiny living room with a plate in hand.

The redhead in the recliner stared blank-faced as a plate with four cold, leftover onigiri was shoved right before his face.

"Here," Ken said sternly, "Eat this." Violet eyes flickered up at him from beneath bright red bangs.

"I'm not hungry," Aya remarked quietly.

"You've not eaten since yesterday," Ken pointed out, "Starving yourself isn't going to help anyone. Eat, and then tell us what happened."

Aya took the plate, a sour look on his face. It wasn't as though he had been starving himself on purpose. He had simply forgotten to eat or sleep. With the hours he normally kept, it was understandable. Besides that, he hated eating in front of other people.

Reluctantly, he took a small bite of the onigiri. Satisfied, Ken walked to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. Aya lowered the onigiri from his mouth and as soon as he finished chewing, he spoke again.

"I can talk between bites," he said quietly, an irritated edge coloring his voice, "I want to get this over with quickly." The redhead on the couch nodded, as did her partner with the tape recorder. The black-haired woman clicked the 'record' button.

"Then please begin," Birman remarked, lowering her hand to get the recorder closer to Aya's voice.

"After the conversation I had with Manx last night," he began, "I went to visit her tonight."

"Tomoe Sakura," Manx clarified. Aya nodded.

"Yes," he affirmed stiffly, "She had the same symptoms that Manx described: low body temperature, weakness. I didn't observe the coughing personally, although I did see the black fluid Manx mentioned. It was her blood." Omi flinched a bit and Manx 'hmm'ed her acknowledgment.

Aya closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the disturbing memory of Nagi 'dancing' with Sakura flickering through his mind again. He took another bite of the onigiri, giving himself time to regain his composure. After swallowing, he continued.

"She had developed other symptoms, too," Aya went on, "She appeared to be paranoid and claimed to have been hearing a voice talking to her for the past few months. Her eyes had also changed." He took another bite of the onigiri, finishing it off completely.

"How had they changed?" Manx asked, trying to clarify for Birman's recording.

"The irises were larger," Aya began hesitantly, "And yellow. The pupils were cat-like in appearance, with vertical slits. When dilated, there was little noticeable difference, but when constricted, they were easily distinguishable. I've never seen a human being with eyes like that before." The last sentence was spoken softly before Aya trailed off completely. He narrowed his eyes, remembering her bulging, fearful eyes. Just another part of the entire, bewildering, disturbing equation. As a distraction, Aya picked up one of the remaining onigiri and took a bite.

"Please go on," Manx prompted, watching as he swallowed, "You said you saw one of Schwarz. Why was he there?" Aya placed the onigiri back onto the plate and rested his arm on the armrest of his chair. He leaned his mouth into his hand and spoke from behind it.

"He came in after I saw her eyes," Aya continued, "It was the youngest one - I think his name's Nagi. He broke through the glass door on the patio outside her room. He didn't physically strike it, though. He laid his hand on it and it blew inward. When he came into the room, I could see that he had the same kind of eyes as she did." Manx nodded. The rest of the room sat enthralled by his story.

"When I tried to defend her, though," Aya went on, staring at his onigiri and avoiding the eyes of the room's occupants, "She used some kind of... psychic force to hold me down." Manx leaned forward, her gaze growing intent.

"So," she said pointedly, "You're saying she had developed some sort of mental powers?" Aya didn't look up.

"Yes," he replied, "We already know from experience that Schwarz has them. It seems logical that she received them from whatever was possessing her." Aya stalled by taking another bite of the onigiri. He didn't want to think again about what he had to say next. But eventually, he finished chewing and had to speak again.

"The boy had a knife with him," he went on, still staring at the plate, "He used it to cut his own hand while she held me down. They put their hands together, and it looked like... it looked like he stabbed her with his blood."

"He what?!" Youji snorted into his beer, almost spitting it out his through his nose.

"But... how?" Omi asked, clearly puzzled.

"If it were anyone but Aya telling us this," Ken remarked, looking at the others, "I'd say they were full of crap."

"Would you boys please quieten down?" Birman spoke for the first time since she'd begun recording, "I'm trying to maintain the integrity of this recording for documentation. It might be important later." Manx, trying to reinforce what Birman had just said, cleared her throat.

"By saying he stabbed her with his blood," Manx clarified, "Are you saying that he can physically control his own blood enough to use it as a weapon against another person?" Aya continued looking at the plate intently.

"Yes," he replied, "When he did it, I felt some of her blood hit me. It was as cold as ice. After that, it looked like he... sucked the blackness out of her wound. Her blood became red again and her eyes changed back to normal. I also believe she lost whatever mental powers she had developed, because she could no longer hold me down. As soon as he was done, she passed out." Aya picked up the onigiri again, taking another small bite off of it.

"And he left after that?" Manx asked, prompting him to continue. Aya swallowed the bit of onigiri he'd been chewing and glanced up at her.

"Yes," Aya confirmed, "Her symptoms were gone then. Her body temperature and eyes returned to normal almost immediately." Omi, who looked to be deep in thought up until that moment, spoke up.

"This is weird. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing that Schwarz is usually involved in," Omi said, a look in his eyes that said that he was processing all the information he'd just been given, "Usually, they're just instigating anarchy or kidnapping people... You don't think this has something to do with that ceremony they tried to perform, do you? You remember, when they tried to revive that ghost, or demon, or whatever it was?" Ken gave him a skeptical look.

"I thought that ceremony of theirs was just a bunch of superstitious nonsense, though," Ken noted, "Nothing they did really would have worked, would it?" Youji, who hadn't seemed to be paying attention up until that point, took a drag from his cigarette before replying.

"But remember," he pointed out, "They wanted to put the ghost into Aya's sister's body, but they got Sakura instead. And they were at least half-way through with her by the time we got there."

"That's right," Omi said thoughtfully, "Who's to say their ceremony wasn't at least a little successful? Maybe they were just trying to get that spirit into one of their own guys, instead of leaving it in someone they couldn't control?"

"If that's what's going on," Ken said, his skeptical look still showing through, "Then this definitely makes a little more sense." Omi nodded.

"It also means we're in a lot of trouble if Schwarz has gained that much power," Omi added, rubbing the back of his head as he remembered being on the receiving end of some of that very same power, several months prior, "They'll come after us eventually." Youji smirked, placing his cigarette between his lips and folding his arms behind his head.

"And to think," he remarked, perhaps with a touch of arrogance, "If Aya had just listened to me in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation." Everyone else turned to stare at him, curious as to what he was talking about. Aya, who had been quiet during their discussion, glanced over, his dark violet eyes flickering.

"What are you talking about?" Aya asked, exasperated from the entire ordeal.

"I told you that you were being a cold fish to Sakura," Youji said, grinning slyly, "If you'd have given her a little more attention in the first place, she'd never have wandered off and gotten kidnapped. And we wouldn't be sitting here discussing this right now."

There was a loud clatter as the plate that was sitting on Aya's knees hit the floor unbroken, strewing onigiri across the living room. In a fraction of a second, he was on his feet, his hand wound in Youji's shirt collar, dragging him to a standing position. Aya hauled the blond up to his eye level.

"Mind your own damned business," Aya hissed, his dark eyes flashing with an angry gleam.

"Both of you, stop it. Now," Manx commanded, rising and stepping between the two men, "Aya, back off. You're lucky you got out of that situation without so much as a scratch. Stop pushing your luck. Youji, you're out of line. Stop letting your alcohol speak for you. We don't need that right now." Aya looked at Manx. The look on her face told him that she was utterly serious. Reluctantly, he let go of Youji's collar, ignoring the glare the other man was giving him.

"I'm not drunk," Youji protested quietly. Manx directed a look at him that clearly meant that she wanted him to shut up.

Aya stooped to collect the plate he'd dropped, ignoring everyone else for a moment. He swore to himself for getting so worked up over such a stupid comment. Youji said asinine things roughly half the time, anyway; why should he have gotten angry over that one? He gathered the ruined onigiri onto the plate and stood back up. Staring at the plate, he realized that he had gotten irritated simply because Youji had hit so close to his own feelings on the matter. It was an inexcusable outburst, though. He'd have to be more careful about things like that in the future.

"I've told you everything," Aya said, turning to Manx, "If there's nothing else you need, I'm excusing myself." Manx lowered her eyes and shook her head.

"No, I stopped recording a few minutes ago," Birman replied, folding her arms, "We have the information we need. Thanks for your cooperation." Aya looked over at her for a second before turning and heading to the kitchen. He dumped the wasted onigiri into the trash, placed the dirty plate in the sink, and walked back to the living room in silence. As he left the room, the silence seemed to settle over the other occupants watching him go as well.

Finally, after a few awkward minutes, Omi spoke up.

"I'm going to do a little research to see if anything else like this has turned up recently," he said, sounding tired, "But this is bad. We can't be bickering amongst ourselves when we don't even know how strong the enemies we're up against are."

"I was only joking with him," Youji said defensively, flopping back onto the couch, "Leave it to Aya to take offense at some totally harmless comment." Manx glared down at him.

"If that was your idea of a joke, it wasn't funny," she observed coldly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Exhausted as he was, sleep didn't come easily for Aya. He tossed and turned in his narrow bed, first winding himself in his sheets, then flinging them off into the floor entirely. His temperature shifted in accordance with wherever the sheets found themselves, as well: when covered, he found himself to be unbearably hot, but when uncovered, he thought he might freeze to death.

This didn't surprise Aya any, though. With the disturbing, unwelcome images from that night replaying themselves in his mind constantly, sleep was hard to attain anyway. He felt painfully aware of every little thing, every little noise from the other room. Finally, though, sleep did come, bringing with it frightful dreams full of those same haunting images. Only instead of a simple replay, his dreams took the images and twisted them into even more terrible, more frightening monstrosities.

Dazed and dreaming, Aya could see himself standing in a shallow, endless red river. Regardless of any indication, he knew where it had come from: it was the blood of those he'd murdered. It was his own hidden guilty conscience.

He looked down at his feet and at the red liquid flowing over them. They were bare and he was clad in what he'd worn to bed - a pair of soft white pants and a white tank top. The blood soaked up through the hems of his pants like a wick and slowly spread up his legs. A few speckles of it colored his shirt here and there, although he didn't know exactly why. And the worst part, he thought objectively, was that through all of these visions, he could not feel horror. All he felt was a general, detached apathy and a slight revulsion at the smell of the blood.

Looking up, Aya could see someone standing off in the distance. He slogged through the river, feeling it travel up his legs as it got deeper. The person he saw seemed to get closer at an inordinate amount of speed for how far he'd walked, though. It seemed as though he'd barely taken five steps before the river was up to his knees and he could see the person clearly.

In all actuality, he could see that it was not one person he was looking at, but two, one holding the other. The one being held was clearly Sakura, a frightened and helpless look on her face. Her pleated blue skirt was torn in places, almost to the point of being unrecognizable, and her yellow overshirt was gone. The white blouse that she wore underneath her school uniform was open and unbuttoned, speckled in places with her own blood. Even farther from normal, however, were the red poppies he saw twisted in her hair. He could also see the tears on her cheeks and hear her whimpering, but failed to feel anything other than apathy.

The one holding her was a little less clear, but he knew instantly that it was the boy from earlier, Nagi. Instead of gray, however, his uniform was black. Hair fell over his large, slanted, sinister-looking, gold eyes, but Aya could still see them plainly. The boy had wrapped his arms around Sakura from behind, one coiling around her waist and the other holding her under her arm. His fingers appeared inhumanly long, more like talons than normal appendages; Aya could even see the tips digging into her flesh, small rivulets of blood springing up from beneath them. A cruel smirk colored the boy's half-hidden face as he moved his lips along her shoulder.

"Do you want her?" he asked, his voice clearly inhuman. Aya noticed that he hadn't moved his mouth when he spoke, either.

"Yes," he answered. It felt like someone else speaking, even though he felt that word come from his own mouth. He didn't know why he'd said it, either. He didn't want anything at the moment, couldn't conceive of caring enough either way about anything to want anything. He watched the boy's smirk get even wider.

"Then take her," the boy replied, shoving Sakura forward through the river, "Do whatever you want with her." The girl emitted a small whimper as her forward momentum carried her stumbling across the water and over to Aya. She collided with him, her face pressing into his chest as if to hide from what was happening. He barely felt the impact and looked down at her, ignoring the boy as he seemed to vanish. Her little hands clutched at his shirt pleadingly as she began to sob. Looking at her, he still felt nothing, still felt cold inside.

"Aya-san," she whimpered into his shirt, "Please don't hurt me..." It almost felt as though he were watching someone else, or that he was not in his own body as his hands traveled around her waist and up her back. Finally, they lighted in her hair on either side of her face, his fingers twisting the short strands of brown hair around themselves. Without knowing the reasons why, he jerked her head back, forcing her face up to look at him. If at all possible, he thought her expression had grown even more frightened. Even though he knew he'd normally be repulsed by it, he found himself enjoying her terror.

For the first time in the dream, a wicked smile began to spread across his face. She began to cry louder, gasping for breath, as he threw her backward. She stumbled for a moment before falling on her back. Instead of landing in the river, however, she landed on a large slab of stone that protruded from it, standing only a few centimeters out of the blood. Aya had no idea where it had come from, only that it had appeared.

As Sakura fell on her back, her head hit the stone hard, the poppies in her hair coming loose and scattering themselves around her on the table. A second more, and Aya was upon her, straddling her waist, his hands pressing her shoulders into the stone slab. She dared not struggle and he could feel that. Instead, she whimpered, pleading with him. He knew she was talking and crying, but it all seemed to blend together into one long, unintelligible sob.

Ignoring her completely, he explored her shoulders, breasts, and stomach with his hands. Her skin was as soft as down, and he watched as small, purple bruises sprang up everywhere he touched. Both the feel of her skin and the colorful bruises delighted him, although once again, he had no idea why.

He leaned closer over her, one hand traveling underneath her ruined shirt. His fingers lightly brushed a small, hard knot on her breast. Grinning as her protests grew louder and more frantic, he caught the little piece of flesh between his fingers, pinching it. Her hands raced up, pressing against his chest, trying to push him away. She began to struggle, unable to budge him.

Growing irritated with her, Aya placed his hands on her shoulders again, pinning her down. Her nails began to dig into his chest, burying themselves in his skin. He watched as small drops of the black blood he'd seen earlier that night fell from his wounds, splattering Sakura's already-stained white shirt. Her crying and pleading got louder, fresh tears springing from her eyes and winding down her already red face. Aya still couldn't make out what she was saying, though; it all sounded like a jumbled mass of sound, running together and infuriating him more. All his mind could formulate was the desire to silence her.

He watched, still detached, as his hands traveled up to her neck, fingers wrapping firmly around it. He savored the look of horror in her eyes as he began to squeeze. Seconds ticked slowly by as the lovely, purple blotches began to spread out underneath his fingers. Grinning, enjoying her choked and quiet pleas, he squeezed harder.

Finally, Sakura ceased to struggle. Her hands slid down Aya's chest, limp. He watched calmly as her half-lidded eyes slowly clouded over through her tears. The hands around her neck loosened their grip and he leaned back, surveying his work.

He searched, but still couldn't find any emotion toward the dead girl that lay beneath him. The only thing Aya felt at the moment was a vague feeling of satisfaction.

Aya woke with a start. He sat up in the bed in a rush, and he wasn't absolutely sure of it, but he thought that he might have been screaming. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. In this manner, he gently rocked back and forth for a few seconds before glancing over to his alarm clock. The digital numbers shone a ghastly red against the darkness, reading 2:00 am.

The intensity of the red assaulting his eyes reminded Aya of the dream. Just thinking of it sickened him. Why on earth would he dream anything like that? He was no stranger to nightmares of blood and killing, but he had never had one anything like that. He hadn't even thought of touching an innocent woman that violently, and especially not that intimately, in his waking hours; he couldn't even begin to fathom why he'd dreamed of it. The fact that he'd dreamed of Sakura disturbed him even more. He had never dreamed of her at all, let alone in such a disgusting manner.

Aya felt his stomach churn. There was barely anything on it at all, but he felt like what he'd already eaten that night was going to come up. He continued to feel nauseous for a few more seconds, huddling against his knees, before he sprang from his small bed and raced to the bathroom.

Several minutes passed and Aya found himself leaning against the cold, porcelain toilet, the meager contents of his stomach having found their way inside it. He still had no idea why he'd dreamed what he did, and getting rid of the food he'd eaten hadn't made him feel any less sick. He knew Ken's onigiri hadn't been bad, so it wasn't that. The only thing he could think of was that he hadn't eaten enough in the past two days, and that he shouldn't have gone to bed on an empty stomach. Either that, or it was just his mind's way of working through everything while he slept. The bizarre nature of the dream made him doubt that, though.

'I enjoyed it,' he thought, leaning his cheek against the toilet's tank and slumping down against the cold floor, 'That was the worst part. I know I enjoyed it.'

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Tot was awakened by a shrill, loud scream. For a few seconds, she didn't know where she was, or what she should do. The horrible noise frightened her, causing her to yelp in surprise. She looked around frantically for the source of the pained scream. As she looked around, Tot noticed that Nagi was no longer curled up against her like he was when she went to sleep.

The light from the bedside lamp fell across the room, leading Tot's eyes to a huddled, shaking figure kneeling in the floor. It was Nagi, and he was the one screaming. He clutched his head as though he thought it would split open at any second, tears spilling from his eyes. As Tot listened, she realized that his screaming wasn't unintelligible at all: he was actually forming words and sentences.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed pitifully, "Stop it! Please! I'm sorry, I'll fix it! I didn't know! I didn't know! Please!" Frightened and fearing that Nagi was in terrible pain, Tot got out of bed. She teetered clumsily for a second before gaining her balance and taking a step toward him. Nagi's head snapped up, his large, golden eyes fixing on her.

"Stay back!" he screamed, his inhumanly wide eyes showing his concern, "He's angry with me! I forgot something!" Tot grimaced, frightened and frustrated because she didn't know what to do.

"Nagi-kun," she whimpered, "What can I do to make it stop hurting?" Instinctively, she took a step away from Nagi.

"There's nothing you can do," he said, finally calming down, sweat pouring down his face, "Just go back to sleep. I'm going to go fix it." Breathing heavily, Nagi pushed himself off the floor clumsily.

Tot watched, horribly worried as he stumbled over to the door and rested his hand on the knob.

"Don't worry, Tot," Nagi finally breathed, "Go back to sleep. It'll all be over soon. I promise. Just wait a bit longer." She watched as he opened the door and stepped through.

"I'll try, Nagi-kun," she whispered as the door closed with a 'click', "I'll do it for you."

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

The living room of the small, crowded RV was dark with the exception of the reading light that Omi had left on. The blond young man was currently curled up on the end of the couch that Youji had been sitting on hours before. His laptop rested on his knees, as his desktop computer was located in the bedroom and everyone was trying to sleep right then. He knew that his loud and rapid keystrokes would keep them up.

The laptop was plugged into a cable modem, a wire running from it to the wall. Omi could well have used a dial-up, but didn't want the lag time that accompanied one of those connections. Even so, he'd been at it for several hours now and hadn't managed to come up with a whole lot of information. As it was, it was nearing three o'clock

Omi didn't look up from his screen when he heard feet shuffling through the living room. Even as slow as they were, from the sound of the footsteps, he could tell they belonged to Aya

"Couldn't sleep?" Omi asked, eyes focused on the line of text he was reading. He listened as Aya flopped into the black recliner he liked to occupy so well. When he received no answer, he continued talking. "After what you saw tonight, I don't blame you," Omi remarked, clicking his mouse.

"I don't want to talk about that," Aya said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. Omi worried about his reaction for a second before continuing.

"Well, I managed to find something," he went on, bringing up the file, "It's not much, but it's the best I could find." He heard Aya turn his head against the leather upholstery, presumably to look at him.

"What is it?" he asked dryly.

"About three weeks ago," Omi replied, reading from the file, "A boy matching Nagi's description and a girl matching the description of the youngest member of Schreient were involved in a similar incident in a school yard. Three boys were injured, one of them sustaining fatal injuries. The details are sketchy, but what you described was there: the gold eyes, the weird powers."

"If she has that, too," Aya said quietly, "Then we're in even worse trouble than we thought." Omi's brows knitted together as he continued to read.

"Like I said," he continued, "Details were sketchy. The school's administration declared it an accident and didn't believe the survivors' story." Aya remained silent, turning his head away from Omi. He was obviously tired of thinking about the whole mess.

The sound of whirring as the laptop began to compute something startled Omi. Aya heard it, but didn't think anything of it until Omi spoke up.

"This is really odd," Omi said, his worry starting to show through in his voice, "Someone's forcing a file transfer through the cable modem. I don't have any messaging services open right now - we're being hacked! I've not set up as many firewalls on this machine, but it still shouldn't be possible!" Aya turned to look at Omi as the boy sat, watching his monitor with a horrified look on his face.

"Is it them?" Aya asked.

"I don't know, but I'd bet on it," Omi replied, tapping a few keys and hitting his mouse button repeatedly, "The source of the transfer is scrambled, so I can't trace them back. How did they find us?!" He busied himself with a few more keystrokes, an angry gasp coming from deep within his throat as he stopped.

"It's a video file," he finally remarked, "I don't think they'd do something so harmless as sending us a virus. I'm going to play it." Interested, Aya stood and walked over to the couch, seating himself beside Omi. He leaned over to look at the screen as the file began to play.

The image that appeared was of the black-haired boy from earlier, still clad in his gray school uniform. He looked rumpled, irritated, his arms crossed on his chest. The image was grainy, obviously taken with a webcam, and the background was made up entirely of... stars?

"Greetings, Weiß," the boy remarked, his voice once again barely resembling anything human, "I have a message for one of your number." Aya narrowed his eyes as Omi continued to look perplexed.

"I thought he was the quiet one," Omi muttered, "He only seemed like he was being pulled along by the others. What's wrong with him?" Aya pointed to the screen.

"Look at his eyes," he said quietly, tapping the area beside Nagi's face, "That's what's wrong with him."

"You were right," Omi gasped, his eyes widening as he noticed the disturbing cat-slit pupils and golden irises.

"Tell Fujimiya Aya," Nagi continued firmly, "That I'll meet him tomorrow night at midnight at the location marked on the map I've included. I'll be alone. He should be as well. If he wants vengeance against Schwarz, for his sister or for Sakura, he needs to come get it from me." The boy smirked for a second before the screen flashed to a picture of a map showing the Shinjuku district, a large red 'X' marking the Shinjuku Gyoen.

"That's a park not far from here," Omi remarked, trying to formulate in his mind exactly how close they were to the area the map showed.

"Damn him," Aya growled, "He's baiting me!"

"That's obvious," Omi said thoughtfully, "Are you going to do it? It looks like a set up."

"Of course it's a set up," Aya responded gruffly, "And what other choice do I have?" Omi saved the map and closed the video file.

"We need a plan," he said firmly, "You can't just go in blind."

Aya continued to stare at the computer screen, a cold look coloring his face.