Warnings: if you haven't read 'em by now there's something wrong.
Disclaimers: same.
Snow
Incident Number Five: Among Dead Plants and Short Skirts
We all sat in the living room, trying to pretend there wasn't a room full of blood and a dead mutated monster right above our heads. I had to keep myself from checking the ceiling every once in awhile to make sure blood hadn't soaked its way through the upstairs floorboards to attack us all unaware. Aya was the first to break the silence. He had bandages wrapped around his head, and while they probably weren't necessary they made him look slightly more human, like he was holding a sign that said, 'Yes, I am mortal'.
"We need to tell Manx about this." He was looking at me. Of course that's my job. Not only does Omi slay monsters, but he also deals with scarily-stern ladies who take bad news like a karate-chop to the gullet. I sighed and reached into my pocket for my cell phone. It wasn't there. Surprised, I checked every single one of my pockets and rose to check the couch cushions as well. Ken, who'd been sitting next to me, had his phone held out in my direction. He wasn't offering to call himself, the coward.
"Thanks" I said distractedly. I flipped it open and dialed.
"Siberian." Manx's voice said in lieu of a greeting. Hooray for Caller ID.
"Uh, Bombay here."
"Bombay." It was one of those magical statements and questions all at once. Like, 'Oh, you're Bombay. Why are you calling and why is it on Siberian's phone?' all in one word. I decided to ignore it.
"We had a situation here," I began, "No one is too badly hurt. Balinese is a bit out of it but he'll recover." I could almost hear Manx's eyebrow rising from the other side of the wireless connection. I told her what happened, from when we picked Ayame up off the street to what she told me in her dying breath. Manx sighed.
"I'll send a cleanup team. They'll be up as soon as they can. Does anyone need medical attention?"
"Abyssinian might have a concussion," He glared at me, but I ignored him, "And Balinese has some serious bruising, but that's about it." I glanced at Ken to see if I'd missed anything, but he wasn't paying attention.
"Check Abyssinian's pupils, make sure they're the same size, and don't let him go to sleep. I want you four back here as soon as possible."
I scowled into the phone. Some fun that would be, both keeping Aya awake and getting us all home through the snow.
"Bombay?"
"Got it. We're on our way." She hung up, and I handed the phone back to Ken.
"We need to go back now." I frowned, "and I can't find my cell phone."
We all packed, except for Yohji who was chocked full of drugs and unconscious on the sofa. Ken packed for him. No one found my phone, and so after another fruitless search Ken and I stood anxiously outside of what was once Ayame's room.
"Are you sure it's in there?" Ken said quietly.
"No, but there's a chance. I looked everywhere else."
He sighed, "Let's do it."
I opened the door. Her body was mostly hidden by the bed and the gray dimness of the room, but nothing could hide the blood drying in streams across the sheets and carpet. I stepped inside, instinctively holding my breath against the smell of blood and death and unidentifiable mutagens. I was focused, checking the room in a meticulous way while Ken circled in the opposite direction. I found it first, hiding behind the bureau where it had apparently fallen off in the scuffle. Visibly relieved, Ken left the room before me and I closed the door quickly.
"Why did she have my cell phone?"
"I don't even care. That was gross." Ken said, and with a flick of his slightly sweaty bangs he was on his way downstairs.
I didn't really see why it was any worse than the other shit we put up with every day. Maybe because she had a crush on him, turned out to be inhuman, and then was sprawled in the room behind him while missing half her intestines and most of her blood. I guess that's enough to creep a person out. I guess. It didn't really bother me, though.
Aya sat on the couch, looking like his usual self, meaning like he was going to get up any minute, grab his katana and skewer somebody. Luckily his eyes were normal-looking, and he seemed to be okay. I turned my attention from him back to my cell phone as Ken came back inside from loading the car. Realizing he probably needed help, I stored the phone in my pocket and grabbed some of the luggage by the door. We didn't have very much, really, since we didn't care enough at this point to bring any of the food back. It could all rot in the fridge; that was fine with me. Ken went to fetch Yohji and I was left 'helping' Aya. Meaning I walked over to him, asked if he needed help, got a grunt, and followed him to the car. I sat in back with Yohji, who stared silently out the window the entire time. Ken drove, on his insistence and much to Aya's irritation. Yohji was out of it on whatever Ken had given him. I hoped he got over Ayame soon, because while Yohji wasn't my favorite person in the world, I liked his raucous, amorous self better. When it wasn't directed at Ken, that is.
Anyway, my cell phone. It was gone for awhile, and then found behind the dresser where Ayame was staying. The wench must have stolen it. Who did she call? Her boss? A backup supply of transforming pretty-girls? Pizza Palace? The number on the outgoing caller ID told me less than Aya on a chatty day: next to nothing. Only that the number belonged to neither the four of us nor Manx. I'd have to report it to Manx so Kritiker could figure it out. I didn't really want to do the research myself. Besides, Manx needed something to do besides follow whoever replaced Persia around in that disturbingly short skirt of hers. I shuddered in the backseat, surprised I wasn't scarred for life at the mere imagery of Manx's wardrobe. Maybe the scar-factor came from the fact that Yohji took full advantage of it. Eek. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, willing all the unwelcome images out of my head.
"Are you okay, Omi?" Ken said. He sounded distant through my self-made unhearing aid.
"Yes." I straightened myself, slightly embarrassed. All my homework was done, with the exception of that Meiji paper, so I had no way to keep myself entertained.
And it turned out, Ken was just as bad a driver as Yohji. Except luckily, Ken knew what the brights were for.
A few hours later we were home. Hooray for the Koneko. I called Manx on the shop phone, not wanting to lose the number on mine. She said she'd come over to collect the phone and to sit tight and be careful in case the person tried to attack us at the shop.
It was madness, an assassin after assassins. By sheer numbers, they were bound to lose. And that was not even taking into account my amazing and boundless intuition.
So it was off to a game of 'pretend there's not an unknown, mutated-minion-sending badguy after you and play flowerboy'. I found it was a game I excelled at, despite the fact I hadn't slept all night. Ken was with me as we pulled open the grate and checked the shop and displays for signs of wilting flowers, throwing them away and re-arranging the remaining ones to make it look like there were more. It's not like we had this flower shop open to sell flowers, and it's not like our customers were here to buy them. We were here to kill people and they were here to ogle us. The flowers could have been orange-spotted poison ivy and I don't think anyone would really care. Unless orange-spotted poison ivy says 'assassins dwell here' more than flowers do. Probably.
"Oh, Omi!" My arm suddenly gained about a hundred pounds and the pot in my hand tipped dangerously.
"No way, Miyu, Omi is mine!" My other arm dropped as someone latched onto it. Well, at least they were even and I wasn't as likely to fling dirt around anymore. Then, of course, an extra hundred pounds attacked my right arm again, and I had to half-toss the pot onto a nearby table to keep from breaking something.
"Omi, Omi, I need some flowers."
"Oooh, Omi… I'll buy you flowers, ne?"
Because we all know florists are seduced when girls buy them their own flowers. Right. I needed Aya here to scowl and threaten them into leaving me alone, but he was off checking the rest of the shop for booby traps, just in case. Yohji was still out of it and sleeping, probably, but even if he was here he wouldn't do much good.
"Uh, one at a time, please!" I said cheerfully, glancing over at Ken. He was being steadily backed into a corner by two sashaying girls in skirts so short they threatened to beat Manx's record. I tried to scrape painted fingers off my arm in an attempt to rescue him, but more girls slipped through the ranks gathered five deep outside the shop and clung to me like hairspray-encrusted barnacles.
"Where are Yohji and Aya?" Someone pouted.
"Busy." I said, my voice strained as I tried to loosen the death-grip of love on my elbow. I managed to get one hand off only to feel another cling in its place. I sighed, turning to check on Ken. He'd managed to duck behind the register, the only reasonably safe place in the shop. Even the most insane of fangirls tended to know that precious five square feet was for employees only. The hours barely passed and by the time lunch came around the place thinned enough to breathe. One last girl lingered by a display of violets for a moment before giving us a final smile and departing.
I flopped into a chair with an exhausted sigh. Ken moved past me, muttering that he was going to check on Yohji. My blurry, sleepless brain must have melted, because I thought I wouldn't have minded if he ruffled my hair as he walked by. He didn't, of course, and once he disappeared downstairs I smacked myself in the forehead.
That was how Manx encountered me, sprawled in a chair, head dangling backwards and covered in one dirt-strewn hand.
"Omi." She said, and I sat up so fast I nearly fell off my chair. She had a slight smile on her face and a manila folder in one hand.
"Can you handle the shop for a bit, Mrs. Momoe?" I asked, jumping to my feet. The old lady just nodded and chuckled at the TV, cradling her cat. I skipped down the stairs three at a time, running a hand along the railing to keep my balance. I shouldn't have bothered, because I lost it the moment I ran smack into Ken. Before I realized what I'd done I was propped awkwardly on my hands on the floor, my face mere inches from Ken's below me. I squeaked and launched myself backwards and into Manx's legs.
"Are you two quite finished?" She said, looking amusedly down at me.
"Geez, Omi, are you okay?" Ken got up, rubbing his elbows where he landed on them. I was still leaning against Manx's shins when she moved away, but Ken grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.
"Why isn't Yohji hanging on me?" I heard her say, "Not that this isn't an improvement, but…"
"Right here, baby" an arm appeared over the back of the sofa. Manx sighed, but I caught the slight smile on her face. I saw her expression because I made it a point to look anywhere but at Ken. I could feel him staring at me, and I thought I'd have burn marks on my head later.
"Boys of Weiss, you have a mission." The creepy replicated voice cut over from the TV. What the hell were they thinking, making a fake Persia? As if we wouldn't be able to listen to anyone else. Isn't it so much harder and expensive to make a pixilated Persia seem realistic than to freaking tape someone else? What kind of sense does this make? Not only that, but it's kind of sick, with Persia being dead and all. Like we need to be reminded every damn day. "...these dark beasts their tomorrows!"
"What!? There was no information!" I cried indignantly. I wasn't about to admit I hadn't been paying attention. Luckily I'd only zoned out for a few seconds, certainly not enough time for there to have been anything useful.
"We don't even know who to kill!" Ken cut in.
Manx sighed and waved her folder around, "Calm down, I've got some more info for you guys. Are you all in or what?" She checked her watch, and without looking at us continued, "Good. The number on Omi's phone led to the address of a run down chemical factory that has long been out of business. There are, however, at least five phone lines running into the place, as well as power, running water and high speed internet. These are certainly not the signs of an abandoned factory. Kritiker was unable to get any other information on the inside of the place, such as whether or not the inside is decorated as well as the dilapidated outside. The company is called Saya, and was never very well off economically or well known. The address and photos of the building are in here, as well as a history of the company. The head of the business used to be one Takahiro Yoshii, but we couldn't find much on him, either. He seems to be a clean, retired old man, supposedly living in Sweden. You need to find out if he is behind this attack and how he's done it, and then kill him. If he isn't responsible, you need to find out who is." She handed me the folder and started back upstairs, "We'll let you know if Kritiker finds anything more." With a wave she was gone. Aya followed her.
"Aww, Manx is gone, isn't she?" Yohji sighed from his sprawled position on the couch. Ken rolled his eyes and turned to me.
"Well, good luck Omi. This is your area of expertise."
I sighed, "Figures." I still had that paper to finish, too. Would it be too much to ask for someone to help me just once? Maybe?
Please?