A/N: Okay, here is Chapter 5 of Safer on the Outside. I was hit by a sudden bout of inspiration and I had to write this. Okay, next chapter will be out in about 2 weeks-- or sooner if I am inspired again. No reviews this time, I'm too lazy and my computer is being really retarded so I can't look up my reviews, arg. (One little side note here: Jesse the Wolf Demon's most excellent story called Riffs & Canvas was nominated for Elimination. It would be most appreciated if you could vote for it. The address is located on my bio page!) Anyway, enjoy!
Safer on the Outside
Chapter 5: Drunken highways
Two days. His mind chanted that in a low whisper. Over and over in rang in his ears, even as he sat quietly on the plane, even as he got into a cab to take him to a small hotel, even as he spoke fluent Italian to the hotel manager. All the while, his mind lingered on the fact that he only had two days left to save the only lives in the world that mattered to him.
His room in this hotel was similar to the one he had occupied in England. It was small, empty, and lonely. There were barely any touches of life, and the color on the wall made him think back to his high school days. It was almost depressing.
Aoshi didn't unpack; he wouldn't be staying more than a few days. All he had was a duffle bag with his clothes and the carrying case for his laptop. His gear would be arriving curtsey of FedEx in a few hours. Anything else he would need-- or not even need but be forced to use anyway-- would arrive by currier from Shishio. The sociopath millionaire often sent Aoshi 'gifts' for his latest mission, which included the most state of the art spy gear, or weaponry, or something of the like. After all, a happy thief is a thief who steals more.
But Aoshi was not a happy thief. Not at all. In fact, he was the farthest thing from happy at the moment. He was a brooding thief. A brooding thief was not a thief who stole well at all. Still, Aoshi was a smart man-- brilliant even-- so he knew the consequences of his failed action.
Bottom line: He had to get this next sword or his friends would be dead. One sword would buy him the time he needed to get the others, to get the one he let the Phantom Rogue steal from under his nose.
That was a bit harsh, considering he let her take the sword. He figured, give her a minimal taste of victory early on, before he left her in the dust. Skilled thief or not, he was the better fighter. After all, she was only a woman. A young, small woman. Fast as lightning. Pretty too.
He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. That was all he needed right now, to develop a crush on the competition. "Jetlag," he muttered to himself. Yes, that was all it was. He was overtired, overworked, and stressed to the breaking point.
It was nearly four in the morning when he hauled himself out of a hot shower and into bed. He'd have to be up and about in less than four hours, scouting out the rest of Rome. He'd locate the sword, he'd get it to Shishio, and he'd get that extra time. Those were the thoughts that comforted him as he drifted off.
Still, his last conscious image was a memory of the Phantom Rogue, back pressed against the wall of a warehouse, arms locked tightly around the sheath of a sword, and her dark eyes wide as she looked at him.
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"Good, Misao," Kaoru said with a smile. "Again!"
They had arrived in Rome earlier that morning, at around eleven. Soujiro and Sanosuke were arguing in the van over where to begin searching for the next sword. They knew it was somewhere in the catacombs. But in a city that had miles of tunnels beneath its streets, they didn't know where to start their search. Kamatari had begun going over their funding, already putting the money they got for the first sword to good use. As per prior agreement, half of the money was sent to charity, so his first task was to find one that was in desperate need of sufficient funding. Megumi was intrigued by their methods, and happily joined Kamatari in his search.
Misao was training. She was always training. It was the training that kept her alert, ready. Misao Makimachi was no fool. She knew that she would come up against Shinomori again, and this time she had to be better. She had to be stronger, faster, and more equipped to handle his assaults. To do that, to be ready, she had to train.
"Ah, Kaoru," Misao groaned, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. "You're a slave driver!" Misao had her braid piled up on her head, so it wouldn't get in her way while fighting. She practiced in her bodysuit, only without the mask. Training in the gear she would later be fighting in helped her get a better feel of the situation.
Kaoru cracked an imaginary whip. "I wouldn't let you have a break until I see knives in all the vulnerable points on that target. Go!"
A vaguely human-figured target was set up about twenty yards from Misao. It was a far toss to get every knife into a 'kill spot', but they had been working for nearly three hours now. Misao almost had them all.
"Uh-oh," taunted Yahiko from his seat nearby. "Misao is having trouble!" Kaoru had sent him on a few training exercises as well, but he was finished. Now he enjoyed sitting and taunting Misao when she missed. That was until an extremely sharp implement went flying past his left cheek. That shut up his cackling.
"Quiet, Yahiko," Kaoru snapped. "We need to concentrate here."
Misao did just that. Four knives firmly in each hand, she lowered herself into a running attack position. She focused on her own breathing, the beating of her heart. Then, as suddenly as she had been standing at the end of the target run, Misao shot off like a bullet toward her target. Zig-zagging the entire twenty yards at a speed that would have left many Olympic track and field stars envious, Misao leapt and sent the first volley at her target before hopping back and sending the second. Her retreated was a choreographed combination of handsprings and back flips.
"Very nice, Misao," Karou commented with a smile when she was done. Then she went to inspect the target.
Misao waited, breathing in and out to steady herself. Kaoru studied the target for a few minutes before coming back over to Misao, with a smile on her face. "Congrats," she said with a satisfied smirk. "My work ethics have improved your aim quite a bit. You got all the spots, go take a break."
Misao bowed. "Thanks, Kaoru." With a smirk, the thief scampered off toward where Kamatari was sitting with one of Soujiro's laptops. "Whatcha lookin' at?" his sister asked, lounging in the chair next to him.
"Just checking my stocks," Kamatari replied with a suggestive lift to his eyebrows.
"How's the market today?"
"We're up by two points."
"Woo-hoo!" Misao laughed. "Does this mean I can get the pony I've always wanted?"
"No," Kamatari replied, making Misao pout. His eyes were dancing. "This means we can get that addition on the studio you've been whining for. Now you can teach martial arts as well as dance."
Misao's smile was brilliant. "Think I can make Soujiro leave his lab long enough to help me in that department?"
"I wouldn't count on that, little bird," was her brother's reply. He frowned a little but affection was still in his eyes. "You know Soujiro lost his taste for fighting a long time ago."
"He still taught me," Misao countered. "And he'll fight when the need calls for it. I'm not asking advanced classes, just maybe with small children." She quirked a smile at him as she got up and arched her back out. "You know how he loves kids."
"Yeah," Kamatari nodded, turning back to his computer screen. "Now if only he'd ask his girlfriend to marry him, I might actually be an uncle before I die."
The statement was meant to be a light one, but Misao frowned. She hated talk of death, especially in the case of Soujiro or Kamatari. All of her family was dead. Everyone she had ever loved had died. All she had were Soujiro and Kamatari, and she vowed to herself when she was sixteen years old that she would never let anything happen to them.
Shaking off grim thoughts, Misao squeezed Kamatari's shoulder as she left to check on Soujiro and Sanosuke. Kamatari patted her hand as she left, eyes riveted to the screen once more. She had to chuckle to herself. Despite Kamatari's... uniqueness, his mind was as sharp as a tack when it came to anything involving money. Once he had his mind on the market, Misao doubted that even the most attractive man in the universe could tear his eyes from the screen.
For some reason, a memory flashed before her inner eye. Aoshi Shinomori, his mask pulled free from his face as he panted slightly and watched her with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. His face had been mostly in shadow, but Misao had not the pride to fight the fact that he had been gorgeous. Still, she tried to shake off such thoughts with physical movement as she pulled the van door open and hopped into the passenger seat.
Sanosuke and Soujiro were sitting on either side of the van, in the back, arms crossed across both their chests, silently glaring at one another. The only sound in the car was the beeping of computer programming and the breathing of the occupants. It was almost eerie-- Misao had never seen either of them so still or so quiet.
"Hi!" she said cheerily. They both jumped and whirled to stare at her. Misao wrinkled her nose-- they hadn't even heard her come in. "What's the plan?"
"Misao," Soujiro said with a frown. "Knock before you enter a man's van."
"Well, when I find a man, I'll let you know," Misao quipped. "You two are acting like two little kids. What are you attempting to accomplish?"
"The sword was reported to be the property of people who own property in the inner portion of the city," Sanosuke said with little annoyance. He tossed Misao a crumpled computer printout. "I think we should start there."
"Reports say," Soujiro added tersely, "the last time the sword was seen, it was in the eastern portion of the city." He tossed her another printout. "We should start there."
Soujiro and Sanosuke glowered at each other again. Meanwhile, Misao looked over the printouts that had been thrown at her. It would make sense that the owners of the sword would have it hidden close by them, so Sanosuke's theory was sound. Still, the last place it was seen would be a logical place to begin a search, so Soujiro was also on the right track. There was only one thing to do.
"Which sword is this?" she asked.
"The third," both men chorused.
"Thank you," she said brightly. Scooting into the back, Misao went over to one of the computer screens and typed for a few minutes. Suddenly, she laughed. "You're both wrong," she said triumphantly.
"What?" Sanosuke said indignantly. "I'd think we'd know more about this than you. Why don't you stick to thievery-- that is what you're good at."
"Hey," Soujiro said with a growl. "Don't talk to my sister like that."
They both jumped to their feet, ready to come to blows. "Hey, boys, simmer down!" Misao ordered, grabbing Soujiro by the back of his shirt and pulling him away. "We're on the same side here."
"Tell him to cool it off," Soujiro remarked, brushing himself off.
"Come say that to my face, shorty," Sanosuke taunted.
Soujiro would have, had Misao not given him 'the look'. "Would you two reign in the testosterone for five minutes? I think I found something."
"What'd you find?" Soujiro asked, turning to look at the computer.
"Well, look here," Misao said, pointing to an article from a newspaper printed nearly thirty years ago. It was in Italian, but the translator on the sidebar of the screen translated it into English. "The paper Sanosuke gave me said that the sword is currently the property of this family, right?" Misao pointed to the name of an Italian family on the screen.
"Yeah," he agreed.
"Well, it says they own property in both the East and West sections of Rome, as well as the family estate near the center of the city. This article says that the property in the West was foreclosed, that no one lives there anymore. This happened a year after the sword was last seen, according to your research, Sou."
"So you think they hid the sword under the western property?" he questioned.
"Makes sense," Sanosuke said from a little distance back. "The sword was spotted on the other property, and they wouldn't want to be obvious and have it under their home. Might as well hide it where no one goes."
Soujiro looped an arm around Misao's shoulders for a quick hug. "My sister is a genius. Where did you find this?"
"Google-- Rome style," Misao beamed. "I'll go get ready."
"You should pack a small bag too," Sanosuke suggested. "You might be down there a while, if the sword was moved around in the tunnels."
"Right," Misao said with a pensive look, her mind already on the next job. "I know just what I need." With firm resolve she hopped out of the van and headed back to Kamatari.
Once she was gone, Sanosuke turned to Soujiro. "Is she always like that?"
"What do you mean?" her brother said defensively.
"She's flaky," Sanosuke said with a shrug. "And what's up with that touching thing?"
Soujiro stiffened a little. "Misao doesn't trust people easily," he commented. "She loves people with even more difficultly. Only if she does both can she stand to be touched."
"That's a little flaky to me," Sanosuke said with a shrug. Soujiro didn't respond.
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Misao checked the contents of her small bag once more as they drove to the nearest entrance of the catacombs that they could find to the property in question. Sitting in the back of the van as Soujiro drove, Misao adjusted her mask and her headset once more as well. After sleeping most of the afternoon away in preparation for the coming night, she was energized and alert.
Flashlights. Check. Matches. Check. Rope. Check.
Her knives, twelve in total, were hidden in various places on her body. Four were tucked into her boots. Four were on her belt. One was on each wrist and two were hidden beneath her armpits in special sheaths. Misao fiddled which her goggles nervously.
First Aid kit. Check. Bottled water. Check. Slim Jims... just in case.
A few other odds and ends like batteries for her headset and the like were loaded in the small black bag. If she was down there more then a day, she'd have to come back out to re-supply. Soujiro also equipped her with a small transmitter so that he could keep track of her in the tunnels and relay directions via his maps in the van.
Misao was about to close up the bag when she noticed a small rectangular box at the bottom of the bag. Bringing it up, she saw it was a half-used box of cigarettes. Looking at Soujiro, who was busy driving and not paying attention to her, she smirked. This must have been his hiding place from Kamatari. Oh well, his loss was her gain.
"We're here," he called over his shoulder, pulling into an open space alongside a building in disrepair. Misao tossed the bag over her shoulder and exited the van though the rear. She turned on her headset as she walked toward the building. Two pieces of wood in the shape of an X were across the front door, so Misao walked around to the window.
"The entrance is in the basement, right?" she asked through the microphone.
"Yep, just get through the window and it's through the door in the kitchen," Soujiro told her as he adjusted the van for the night. Sanosuke would be relieving him in a few hours. The rest of the team would take turns, for however long it took for Misao to find her quarry.
The door in the kitchen was stuck so Misao had to ram her shoulder into the wood to open it up. It jarred her a little, and Misao regretted her hasty action. There were missing stairs, but she hopped over them easily. There was a small doorway directly across from her when she reached the basement-- the entrance to the catacombs.
Pulling out a flashlight, Misao clicked it on and opened the door. The entrance was covered in cobwebs, but the thief walked through them without fear. Spiders didn't bother her. In fact, there was very little in this world that frightened Misao Makimachi anymore. One had to be fearless to do her kind of work.
With Soujiro's directions, she walked the cold, dark, and empty halls of the catacombs. They smelled musty and dank and old. Misao could hear the sounds of rats running about, but there were other sounds that made her think she was being followed. Shivers ran up and down her spine. Was it a spector? Ghosts of long-dead Romans or Catholics come back to punish her for trespassing? She was better off not thinking about it and just concentrating on the mission at hand.
"Sou," Misao whispered into the headset. "This place is creepy!"
"Don't tell me you're scared," the static-y reply laughed. "The Phantom Rogue should be fearless."
Misao was puzzled by the sudden arise in the static, but she was deep underneath an Italian city-- it was only to be expected. Still, Soujiro's equipment was always top notch and the static worried her. It she lost contact with Soujiro, she would, without a doubt, be lost amidst the catacombs.
"You know," a voice suddenly said from behind, making Misao jump nearly out of her skin. As it was she squeaked and dropped her flashlight. "It's not safe to be down here alone." Misao whirled, only to come mask to mask with the thief she had secretly hopped never to cross swords with again.
She dropped her bag and grabbed the two knives hidden beneath her armpits, quickly assuming a defensive stance. Her opponent, however, just leaned one elbow against the wall of the hallway and looked at her. Or at least she assumed he was looking at her since he was once more donning his mask.
"You've been following me." It was not a question.
"Yes." There was no remorse in his voice.
"Well, Mr. Shinomori, we might as well get this over with so I can go get the next sword."
He smirked beneath his mask. "So you've found my secret identity."
"It wasn't hard, seeing as how you gave me your name," she said sourly. Why wasn't he attacking?
"I thought it only fair we be on level ground," he commented with a shrug. Why couldn't he attack?
"Do you expect a thank you?" she asked testily.
"I wouldn't know what to do with one," he said languidly. That was when he moved into an attacking stance, reaching for the swords that were sheathed at his waist. "But as you said, we need to get this over with so I can get the sword."
He surged forward, swords at the ready for attacking, but when he got there, she was gone. Misao had dodged to the side, coming around behind him, and slashing down with her knife. Aoshi twisted just in time to miss the attack. He bought down one of his swords, but she deflected the blow and then blocked the counter attack. She brought her knives around, as if to attack his face, but pulled back at the last moment. She hit him with a drop kick instead, sending Aoshi back and to the ground. Misao was on her feet an instant later, grabbing her pack and running down the hallway.
"Soujiro!" she yelled into the headset. "Where am I going?"
"Misao? What's going on?"
"He's here!" she all but screamed. "Get me out of here!"
"Ok go left. Left!" Misao couldn't slow down enough so she dropped to skid with one hand gripping the ground. A shower of dirt shot up under her boot as she flew around the corner and took off down a narrow path. She could hear Aoshi right behind her.
"Go right!" Soujiro commanded and Misao complied. Just as she turned however, her speed decreased a fraction. It was enough for Aoshi to grab her by the arm and throw her off balance. Misao hit the ground hard, jarring her arm again, but scrambled up quickly. Aoshi blocked her path and Misao had no choice but to go straight. She gripped two of the four knives hidden in her boots, launching them at Aoshi before sprinting off.
Aoshi dodged the volley of knives and was soon chasing at her heels. He didn't really want to hurt her, but he had to make sure he got this sword, no matter what. For the sake of his friends.
"Misao, go back!" Soujiro yelled into her ear.
"I can't! He's right there!"
"Misao, please, go back! You can't go that way! There's a drop at the--"
Misao didn't finish listening because the path before her came to an abrupt stop. The ground beneath her feet came to an end and Misao felt herself freeze for that split second before she began plummeting. She let out a deafening shriek, the bag slipping from her grasp. She fell for what felt like forever before she connected with solid ground, soft dirt strung across solid stone. She felt her bones shake, and felt her poor, abused shoulder disconnect from her socket. Misao whimpered, curling into a fetal position at the bottom of whatever hole she found herself in, nursing her wounded side.
"Misao!" a voice called from above. "Are you alright?"
Misao wasn't going to reply because she knew who was calling. Instead, she groped for the headset, which had fallen off during her tumble. It lay in pieces beside her, the static still sounding. "Soujiro?" she called into the microphone. There was no reply. Misao tried to get up, but her body protested and she whimpered again. The only thing she could manage to do was pull off her mask. Deeply breathing, breath after breath, she tried to fight off the darkness enclosing on her and failed.
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Aoshi heard her scream and paled beneath his mask. He adjusted his goggles and looked to see where she had gone. There was a deep hole at the end of the path, a good ten feet at least. And she had fallen to the bottom.
Scanning the ground, he could just make out her shape, curled up on her side. For a few minutes, he swore she was dead, but then he saw her hand move out to grasp for something beside her.
"Misao, are you alright?" he called, but she didn't answer. He heard her say something into her headset, but he was sure it was broken from the fall. Then she went still and he felt a lump rise in his throat. Did he just kill a girl?
With no alternatives, Aoshi had to go down and see if she was okay. He grasped the side of the pit and lowered himself slowly, dropping the four feet between him and the bottom, landing solidly on the ground. He walked over and went to his knees at her side. Pulling off his glove, he pressed two fingers to her throat. She had a pulse, but he saw blood oozing from scrap on the back of her head. With any luck, she hadn't hit it too badly. As he turned her on to her back, he also noted Misao's dislocated shoulder.
"Perfect," he muttered to himself, looking down at the unconscious woman before him. He pulled off his own mask, rubbing his eyes and trying to think of what to do. He had always been a strategist, had he not? Trouble was, her headset was broken, and his map of the tunnels was in the duffel bag sitting conveniently at the entrance of the tunnel where he had entered. In his haste to follow her when he had first caught a glimpse of the Phantom wandering the tunnels, he had left it behind. They would suffer for that oversight.
"What are we going to do?" he asked the dark, shaking his head.
"You can start by getting my bag," a tired whisper told him. Looking down, Aoshi saw that Misao was looking up with half-lidded eyes. She was pale, paler than she should be, and didn't have the energy to summon fear. "There is... stuff in there."
"Where is it?" he asked, already getting up to comply with her request.
Misao moved her head around a little, groaning to herself. "It's somewhere."
Aoshi scanned the small area where they were, his eyes already adjusting to the dark surrounding them. He spotted a small black bag lying in a heap a few feet from Misao and grabbed it up before sitting beside her. Digging inside of it, he discovered a first aid kit and pulled it out. Opening it, and fishing around in the contents, he pulled out some things that would help stop the bleeding on her head. When he went to touch her, Misao flinched back. She might not have energy, but it was a bodily effect.
"Come on," he said in a frustrated tone. "I'm just trying to help." When he tried again, she did the same.
"Don't," she said forcefully.
"I'm just trying to help," he said again. Something in his voice made her want to believe him, but a lifetime of fear and pain called the shots.
"Just don't," she said quietly.
"You could die if I don't help you," he said angrily. Her stubbornness was not helping matters.
"Then I'll die," Misao responded almost viciously-- had she not been lying in a fetal position, it might have even been intimidating.
"Have it your way," he said. That was it; he'd washed his hands of the woman. He got up and began looking for an escape until it occurred to him that she didn't retort. Puzzled, he looked down and saw she had passed out again. "This is going to be a pattern with you, isn't it?" he asked the unconscious woman, rolling his eyes as he did so.
At least when she was out, she couldn't fidget. Using that advantage, he successfully eased her shoulder back into the socket. Then he cleaned up the cut on the back of her head. Once he was done, he followed her example and backed himself against the wall, leaning back and resting his eyes. A minute later, he was out. Neither of them quite understood the fact that they were lost beneath the streets of Rome.
A/N: Sorry for the lack of reviewer response, we humbly beg forgiveness and give a plea--just a plea to please, in fact, review. This is a much loved story and will be continued with or without the support of readers--but with is much more fun!