Changing Minds
WeiB Kreuss does not belong to me
The guard felt it flying, silver and sharp, bitting his neck. Looking down, he noticed his uniform was becoming a darker shade of red, the painless cut on his neck oozing blood. He fell.
Yohji slid from the shadows, a darker stain against the starless sky. He observed the fallen guard, and moved to the next warehouse. So far, no luck. The abandoned warehouses were, surprisingly, abandoned, save for the ocassional guard.
This mission had been nagging them for two months. A simple routine of "crash the office, kill the baddy", turned into an endless chase of elusive leads, darting across the country, any reports from Kritiker ambiguous and lacking detail. It seemed their actions had been antecipated, and expected, as the company of the deceased man managed fell into the hands of his wife, whose divorce papers she so vehemently demanded three weeks before had never seen the light of the day. She striped the company, turning it into flowing cash, fled the country and it's taxes, the narcotics dealings of her deceased husband being a far too dangerous business for her to stay. The laboratories she put on the name of his brother, long-time employee, a pharmaceutics genius, living on edge since his daughter became sick.
What slowly started as a small epidemic flu blew out of proportion as it spread across the cities, too deadly to be a simple cold floating by. And all threads lead back to the employees working on the pharmaceutics laboratories, the first infected.
There was a loud clank form across the street. He stopped, ready to attack. A coughing fit shook another guard, bent, the cigarette falling to the road with him. Bombay and his poison darts. He headed for the next warehouse, intent on finding an entrance. He dismissed the door, reinforced in steel and coded. The windows were too high for him to try something. He rounded the building, frustrated, and contacted Omi.
"Bombay,do you have any codes for the warehouses doors? This one's closed." He hoped this indicated that it was what they were searching for.The night was cold, and he didn't feel in the mood for this.
"They aren't reliable, Balinese. Kritiker managed them, but I tried one and almost set off the alarms."
"Isn't there a way to overrun the security system?"
"I'll try. Hold on a minute."
He searched the building again, his hands itching. Lately, he'd been a bundle of nerves. Stretched to the limit and ready to snap.
"I think I managed it. The door must be open. Try it now."
He rounded the corner, sliding a length of wire to his hands.He pushed the door open, silently, and peered inside . He slipped in, taking on what was around him.
Old card boxes and the scurrying of mice was all that greeted him. The dusty environment made him want to sneeze. No one had been here for a long time.
"This one's empty." He turned to leave, frustrated. But the silence was odd, forced. Too...
Quiet. He heard his breath, amplified one hundred times. They came silently and swiftly, darkness taking a shape of it's own. A dance macabre between his wire and their weapons, cutting and shooting. He ducked, counting them, the burning pain on his shoulder a focus to succeed. Someone screamed, the sound of sharp knifes sliding in and out of bodies surpassing the defeaning silence.
Ken appeared in front of him, claws glistening red on the moonlight, held in front of him. Defiance. Ken, who liked small children. Clumsy and hot-headed. Cold-blooded and vengeful. Someone moved behind him. He turned around, catching a glimpse of the good old doctor. Yohji ran after him. He reached for his com, contacting Omi. Ken was to bussy cutting and slicing those nowhere men.
"Bombay. He's trying to escape. Fifth warehouse on the right!"
Something flew by, cracking the wall. He was trying to shoot him. Sending his wire, he trapped the doctors legs. Falling, the doctor twisted and turned to Yohji, trying to raise his gun. Yohji ran, kicked it out of his grasp, a knee on his neck and a taunt wire splitting his skin.
"Hello... Remember us?" He punched him, hard, the bone crushing.
The doctor wheezed, trying to breath.
"What... what do you want?"
"Don't be an idiot. Now..." He put more pressure on his knee. "... you wouldn't risk getting infected without a cure. Guess you thought you would be the only to survive after scorching the earth, huh? Change of plans. Where is it?"
"There is no antidote." His mouth twisted to a smile. " Or don't you remember? Haven't you learned your lesson with that red-head of yours?
"Bastard!" He punched him again, harder. "Where is it?"
The doctor smiled. "There isn't one. If you weren't so eager to kill my dear brother, perhaps he would have created it. But then again, who wants a sibling who infects his own nephew?"
His glasses glistened on the moonlight, his smile a sneer.
"Tracking me for so long. How blind are you, Kudoh?" He mocked the name, letting it roll on his tongue. " Left your lover all alone to die, out of reach, out of view? When were you by his side? And you call me... inhuman?"
"You love so much, Kudoh, that it's just so easy to let all your loved ones slip from your fingers. What was it? Were you afraid to catch it? To touch him? Did he remember you that your debauchery was one day going to catch up with you? I..." A punch to the mouth shut him up. And another and another. Yohji saw red and was bristling with fury, all the bottled feelings from the last weeks overcoming him. Mad, angry, disgusted. Mad at the news, angry at the world, disgusted for running away. How to face a situation that remembers the frailty of live in the form of a loved one?
He saw him. So helpless. Doomed and frail and, bit by bit, gone. How was he going to handle it?
Distantly, he heard Omi, screaming at him to stop, that the doctor was necessary alive, that they needed him. They needed him? Aya needed him, past tense, finito and over. Had he been so blind to be the one to feel betrayed? Was he so selfish he couldn't stand by his side? What was the point to finally come to his senses and watch him die?
He let the doctor's body fall limply to the floor, getting up. " I was searching for a cure..."
"Were you? You missed it by a long shot."
Yohji didn't answer.
"I'll look around. See if we didn't miss anything."
Maybe his sanity had been stored away since that night, the explosion at the fabric, the falling debris and the rocking ground. And it was out, consuming and infecting. They didn't come clean. It was among them. And he miserably failed. Omi fussed, Ken worried, and he...
He turned his head. There was a sound, a muffled sob coming from behind the doors to his left. He pushed them open, and peered inside. He almost dismissed the bundle of clothes if these hadn't moved, trying to back away. The eyes held him raptured, sad, big and dark. He aproached cautiously, crouching in front of her. The daughter, doomed to a failed experiment, stored away while her father pinned for a cure and despaired for vengeance.
"This was the last deposit. Let's go, Yohji."
He suppressed a sigh, hoping all of this over. The little kid on the corner shook, silent sobs and fearful eyes making him hesitate. Should he leave her be? No cure, no hope. Would it be merciful to end all of it and spare her the pain?
But there was a promise, gripping a cold hand, eyes losing their violent tint, cold, forgiving and dead. He couldn't believe himself not to care any longer. He fluffed her hair, smiling. "Come on, kiddo."
A bit late, but...
Just remembering 1st December – World AIDS Day. Don't discrimate and participate.
Thnaks for reading.