Epilogue

Everyone was gathered around Michael's computer; except Doujima, who was late as usual, and Amon, who remained aloof. A file on the witch they had captured last night was displayed on the monitor.

"It seems she was part of a group of witches who know of and oppose the STN-J," Michael explained. "The fact that we were able to track her last night. . .was deliberate."

The office was filled with stifled gasps, and all but Amon seemed utterly shocked by the information. Studying his solemn, brooding expression, Robin had a sneaking suspicion that he was already privy to this information. Perhaps he had even discovered it himself. Amon seemed to have an uncanny ability to dig up information, especially on witches.

"So this witch. . .was hunting us?" Karasuma said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It looks that way," Amon replied. Though his face betrayed nothing, Robin thought that for a moment, she detected an unsettled look in his eyes.

He'd certainly shown no such apprehension when he had taken down the witch. The witch with her face. Would Amon really shoot her so easily? Flashes from her recurring nightmare swam to the front of her mind, but she pushed them away.

"We'll have to be more careful about our movements from now on." Amon stated, bringing Robin back to attention. She watched as Amon headed for Zaizen's office.

"Well right about now, I feel like heading to Harry's for some breakfast." Sakaki declared.

"Haruto, we have work to do!" Karasuma scolded. Doujima walked casually into the room, yawning and clutching a cup of coffee.

"If she gets to leave whenever she wants, why can't I go grab a bite to eat?" Sakaki complained loudly, pointing an accusing finger at Doujima. She just smiled and sauntered lazily to her desk.

"I told you Sakaki, I'm special."

"Yurika, don't provoke him," Karasuma chided.

"I'm not provoking anyone," Doujima replied innocently.

As their argument continued, Robin excused herself and walked away, shooting Michael a sympathetic glance. He sunk a little lower into his chair, stuck in the middle of the shouting trio.

Amon came out of Zaizen's office, looking visibly irritated. He stopped when he came to Robin, staring down at her sternly. It took all her courage to keep from shrinking beneath his gaze.

"The hunt would have gone much more smoothly if you'd bothered to check in like I told you."

"I'm sorry," Robin said quietly, looking at the floor. "My communicator wasn't working."

"I didn't ask for excuses."

"But I-" Robin began to protest. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Amon stepped around her, and walked away.


"No, she went after the wrong target. . .we won't make that mistake again. . .next time, I'll have someone see to it personally."

Zaizen hung up his phone. He removed a cigar from the box on his desk, and sniffed it before lighting it and inhaling deeply. He continued to stare at the telephone for a moment, then reached for a file that lay next to it. Removing the papers inside, he fed them one by one into his paper shredder, watching calmly as the picture of a young girl, now in the custody of the Factory, was neatly sliced into strips.

--Finis--