Disclaimer : Don't own the characters or anything yadda, yadda. Just borrowing Rando Ayamine and Yuya Aoki's since I'm too darn lazy to create characters as interesting as these guys.
A.N. : Big thanks to everyone reading. Hope this chapter passes muster with you guys. Please keep those reviews coming because I really do love to hear from you!
Chapter 3 : Plan B (and half a "C")
The job was beginning to give Ban a splitting headache.
He sat at the counter with elbows propped, fingers pressing hard into his temples. A piece of paper lay before him, scribbled with details and riddled with arrows, underlines and question marks.
The case looked simple enough - a textbook hijacking of goods while in transit and the goal, to recover as many of the missing items as possible. But Ban had many questions and the client gave little information. Initially, he didn't know where to start. But then he remembered the photos. Arms, legs, heads, torsos, circuits and connectors; pared down to the titanium skeleton or covered in life-like, revolutionary platinum-cured silicone.
More than a dozen highly valuable robotic parts in one haul, and the client seems sure they've been scattered and divided so soon? Why else would he need five retrieval experts? Ban wondered, stubbing out another cigarette in the nearly overflowing ashtray.
Being a former thief himself, he would have taken the whole kit and caboodle.
But Ban pushed the suspicion out of his mind, realizing there was nothing strange about the grab-and-divide tactics used. The parts could've easily been pre-auctioned among the interested buyers.
And insurance fraud was out, too. Obviously, collecting on a stolen items claim was highly dependent on said goods remaining... stolen.
Ban hit his forehead repeatedly with the heel of his hand. "Focus... Focus..."
Still, even though he decided this was a legit operation, a nagging uncertainty prevailed in the back of his mind.
Not that that ever stopped the Get Backers before. Ban doodled a stick figure on the paper. He absent-mindedly cut a line between the figure's head and body and stared at it for a while. Suddenly, the picture of the female android prototype Hevn showed them sparked an observation.
Hevn said the prototype wasn't capable of doing much yet, but that didn't mean it couldn't do something. To Ban, that meant the android had artificial intelligence. And if its components were interfaced for coordinated movement, as he suspected, then the unit's central processor was its engine and therefore the most important – and valuable – part.
The image of lifeless hazel eyes flashed in his memory. What good was an anthromorphic robotic body without a face to give it some semblance of humanity?
"It's all in the head!" Ban exclaimed triumphantly, underlining the word 'head' over and over again.
He spent the better part of the morning on the Internet while Ginji slept on one of the booth benches, saying he needed to conserve his energy. Ban was more than convinced that the android heads were the parts to go for, with a fully assembled unit all the more preferable. But first, he needed a clue as to which buyer would most likely purchase the stolen parts.
Having searched various robotic company websites and reading some of the related convention articles, scientific journals and university research abstracts from around the world, Ban found out that advances in robotic technology had been progressing at an abnormally break-neck pace.
No doubt through the underground activities of places like Mugenjou and Babylon City, he frowned.
There were robotic heads, for example, that had been designed with over forty-five mechanical actuators that controlled facial movement. Considering there were fifty-three named muscles in the human face, theoretically, the robot could mimic human expression almost perfectly.
Combined with a speech synthesis device and an A.I. that was reactive to voice command or even emotion, and you had an android that could near pass for human. Ban felt all indications were that the missing heads could do just that.
Now he would have to find out which group would pay a huge amount of money yet risk its reputation by dealing in stolen merchandise.
Ban knew of one person who could help the Get Backers. The only person who could concern herself so deeply in the moral divides between the fake and the real, truth and deception, and art and life; that she would do – and pay - anything to keep the lines clearly defined.
---
"You want us to pay you WHAT?" Ban hollered incredulously into his mobile phone.
"I'm sure it's merely a pittance of what you expect to make from this new job of yours," the soft, breathy voice replied from the other line.
"Well, not if you're going to charge this much! This is highway robbery!" he protested. "And since when did you become a paid informer anyway, Clayman?"
"You know I'm only concerned with safeguarding aesthetic integrity. But since we're dealing with robots here, I'm sorry to say that's where my artistic altruism ends," she said matter-of-factly.
Ban made a face. "Oh, just admit it. Going straight has been tough on you, too, huh?"
There was a tiny trace of a giggle in Clayman's smooth, elegant tone. "The offer is as is. Take it or leave it."
"All right. All right," he relented, smiling smugly at having caught the poised art thief in a bind. "It's a deal."
"Good. Meet me at the 'National Museum of Western Art' in an hour and I'll have the information you need."
Ban snapped his phone shut. "Sheesh! Can you believe that hack? She just charged us – the Get Backers – for information. And after all we've done for her!"
"As long as it's valuable information, I don't see why not," Paul said while inspecting the saucer Shido had cracked earlier to see if it was still salvageable.
"It's valuable all right," he grumbled, running his fingers through his hair. "It cost us 50,000 yen!"
"Hmpfh! If I could only collect as much," Paul scolded, giving up on the saucer and tossing it into the rubbish bin.
"You implying something?" Ban looked at the café owner with a confident glint in his eyes. "Don't worry. If this job reels in as big a fish as I expect it should, you can consider our tab paid."
"In full?" Paul's mouth dropped open.
"Mmm."
He gripped the counter with both hands and leaned closer to know if he heard the brunette Get Backer clearly. "You're pretty sure about this, aren't you?"
"Since when have we failed at an assignment?"
"I meant the money..."
"It's going to be different this time. I can feel it," Ban threw his head back and sniffed.
Paul had no words.
"Ginji! Wake up!" Ban shook the sleeping boy roughly out of his slumber.
"Wha- is it lunch yet?" Ginji opened one eye and uncurled himself on the bench.
"Better. We've got a lead!" he replied enthusiastically, yanking Ginji to his feet. "Come on. If we leave now we can beat the lunch hour traffic to Taito."
Outside, as Ban fished out his car keys from his pocket, a glob of bird dung almost landed on his shoe.
Ban jumped back. "What the fu-"
He looked up to the clear sky. Searching for the avenging sparrow he assaulted earlier, he shouted, "So this is how it's going to be then! Well, bring it on!" He flipped a dirty finger up to the sky and entered the car.
"And tell that baboon to go screw himself!"
"Who on earth are you talking to?" Ginji inquired, greatly perplexed.
Before Ban could answer, a nasty, unidentifiable goop spattered all over his side mirror.
This job was not starting out well at all.
---
Ginji temporarily forgot the throbbing pangs of hunger in his belly while admiring the charms of Ueno Park.
"Ban-chan, how come we never visit this place during the Cherry Blossom Festival?" he asked as they strolled toward the museum.
"Hmm?" Ban looked back at his partner who was lagging behind. He forged on ahead. "I don't know. Too many people, I guess."
He didn't have the heart to say it was because he was the worst iconoclast there was. But Ginji wouldn't understand the word even if he knew what it meant.
Ginji kept silent, his eyes continuing to wander around the park.
"We can visit next spring, okay?" Ban finally offered, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. Ginji smiled and caught up with his friend.
At 'The National Museum of Western Art', the Get Backers roamed the galleries searching for their androgynous, silver-haired informant – hoping, that is, she wasn't wearing one of her clever masks.
Fortunately for them, she wasn't, and they found Clayman seated on a bench in front of Still Life With A Boy Blowing Soap-Bubbles by 17th Century Dutch artist Gerard Dou.
Ban and Ginji positioned themselves on either side of the bench, studying the painting with her and respectfully waiting for Clayman to finish her moment and speak first.
Ban regarded the still-life elements of the painting – the soap-bubbles, the skull, hourglass – and the pensive young boy sinking against the ink- black background. He wondered if this was how Clayman saw Ginji and him. Ginji, unschooled and unsophisticated though was he, was particularly taken with the portrait.
"Vanitas," Clayman finally chimed in, her gaze dropping from the painting and resting on Ginji's entranced face.
"The emptiness and futility of man's existence," Ban translated, staring straight at the picture.
She nodded. "Except for our entertainment, what practical use does man have for a mechanical being re-created in near-perfect human form? In our need for absolute obedience and control are we stagnating ourselves and slowly erasing the instincts that keep humanity evolving?" Clayman pondered quietly, her cool countenance taking on a certain sadness.
As if sensing this, Ginji tore his attention away from the painting and sat beside her on the bench, catching her cold eyes with his warm ones. Clayman smiled and gently cupped Ginji's face in her sculptor's hand.
"I don't want to look into a perfect face and not see the dreams of a hundred lifetimes in its eyes... or touch soft, full lips that haven't been ravaged by the memory of a thousand frenzied kisses." She gave Ginji a pinch on the cheek.
She then turned to Ban. "Your android heads will never give the same emotional responses humans naturally crave."
"With robots, it's not about what humans crave emotionally, it's what they want physically," he retorted dryly, taking a seat.
"You've never been a romantic, have you?" Clayman teased. "Shame. With your breadth of perception you could be a brilliant artist in any medium you choose. I hear you play the violin very well."
"Never had I a need to become either a romantic or an artist."
"I see," she bowed her head. "I suppose your life was all about looking for a light to take away a part of your darkness. I'm happy you've found him – your balance." Clayman stood up and faced the two young men.
"Forgive me. I've misjudged you two. Instead of meeting at an exhibit of 'vanitas' I should've brought you to one of 'chiaroscuro'."
"Eh?" Ginji cocked his head. It puzzled him why any conversation with Clayman always veered toward the bizarre.
Ban calmly lay a hand on the confused Get Backer's shoulder. "She meant it as a compliment, Ginji." He looked up at the enigmatic woman. "I gather you learned a lot from this art lesson?"
"I did," she laughed as she reached into her suit jacket and pulled out a photo and a folded piece of stationery.
"His name is Kojio Kiyoshi," Clayman said as she handed over the materials to Ban. "Kojio is a third-rate sculptor and animatronics engineer heavily involved in tech espionage. As it were, his latest client is a large special effects company in Hollywood that happens to be in the market for an advanced anthromorphic head model."
"Kojio's arrival from Los Angeles last night coincides with your parts theft. I have no doubt he's the man you should be looking for."
Ban and Ginji briefly scanned the surveillance picture. Kojio was a slight, nebbish middle-aged man with a pale complexion and a bad comb-over. Typical, Ban thought. Corporate spies and bag men like Kojio tended to be inconspicuous, methodical and predictable.
"Piece of cake," Ban snorted. He read through the folded sheet of paper with the name and room number of the hotel Kojio was staying in and tucked it into his shirt pocket.
"This is all we need." He and Ginji stood up, ready to leave. "Honest to God, Clayman, I hope your exorbitant fee is worth it.'
"Oh, I'm sure it is. But just in case you need a backup – "
She coolly passed them a white business card elegantly embossed in black with a striking Aubrey Beardsley-inspired drawing of a nude.
"What's this?" Ban enquired petulantly.
"Kojio. He has – exotic tastes," Clayman enunciated carefully, adjusting her silk tie.
"Whatever," Ban muttered as he thrust the card into his pocket. With a feeble backhand wave to the informant, he walked with Ginji out of the gallery.
Clayman smiled knowingly as she watched the Get Backers go. With great amusement, she imagined just how those two boys would react when they found out what 'exotic' really meant.
---
"Who does she think we are, anyway?" Ban fumed while peering through the lens of his trusty binoculars. "Backup, my ass."
Ban and Ginji were back in Shinjuku, parked, illegally as usual, on the street across the five-star hotel where Kojio was staying. The hot mid-day sun was beating down on the car and Ginji was fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Uh, Ban-chan. Can't we stake out Kojio inside the hotel? It's getting really hot in here," Ginji complained, fanning himself by flapping his shirt.
"Nah. If we waited in the lobby, we'd be too conspicuous if we didn't order anything, and no way in hell am I going to order an overpriced cup of coffee."
"How do you even know he's going to come out?"
"Believe me, a guy comes home to Tokyo for one day? He's definitely getting authentic Japanese for lunch," Ban declared confidently.
"Now why do the bad guys get to have lunch and we don't?" Ginji sighed as he threw his head back into the headrest.
"Here. Your turn," Ban passed the binoculars over to his partner and lit up. He took the card Clayman gave them and admired the intricate Art Noveau workmanship. Turning the card over, he noticed the gold-embossed Kanji script that read 'Your Fantasy, Our Pleasure' and the blank space below it.
"Hey, I could use this tagline," Ban thought aloud. "Except it would be – " He mimicked the deep voice of a commercial announcer. "– Mido Ban-sama. Jagan Master. Your nightmare. My pleasure."
Ginji chuckled. "Just as I thought. You're as hungry as I am."
"Shut up," Ban absent-mindedly shoved the card and his pack of cigarettes into his shirt pocket.
"Wait. I think I just spotted him. That's Kojio, right?" Ginji exclaimed as he quickly returned the binoculars.
Ban watched the short, skittish-looking man brusquely blow past the hotel doorman and stride to the curbside. As Kojio impatiently tried to flag down a cab, the Get Backers debated on what to do.
"Should we follow him?" Ginji asked anxiously as their man succeeded in hailing a taxi.
"I don't think he's picking up the package yet," Ban said. He put down the binoculars and contemplated his options for a second. Pulling his glasses over his eyes, Ban opened the door.
"Let's go. We'll find out more about his plans inside his hotel room."
Inside, Ban and Ginji walked down the plush hallway of the hotel searching for the right room, finally reaching it at the farthest corner.
"Heh. Our man Kojio is quite the inept criminal. He checked himself into 'Murder Central'," Ban sniggered as they stood before the door.
"Huh? What's 'Murder Central'?" Ginji already had his hand poised over the keyless entry lock.
"It's the room at the end of the hall and nearest the fire exit. Any intruder could enter with little chance of detection, do the deed, and make a fast escape through the stairs."
"Intruders, like us, right?" Ginji helpfully suggested.
Ban sucker-punched his partner. "Idiot! We're not intruders, we're Get Backers! Now short out that lock."
"Geez..." Ginji rubbed the back of his head. He then carefully positioned his fingers against the card slot. He needed only to discharge a tiny current and was able to push the door handle open.
Ban surged past Ginji inside. "Let's make this quick. It won't be long before security detects the lock malfunction."
They searched the room for packages of any kind, but found none, confirming Ban's suspicions. Then they carefully picked through Kojio's travel bag, which only contained a toiletry kit and a change of clothes.
Ban took notice of the pad of paper and pencil next to the phone. Using the pencil, he began shading over the top sheet to lift any pressure imprints left behind by the writing on the previous page.
Meanwhile, Ginji opened the mini-bar and stared longingly inside.
"If you're that hungry, take whatever's in there," Ban said without looking up from his task.
"But that's stealing!" Ginji gasped.
"No, it isn't. We're just taking back what was taken away," he rebutted. Ban tore out the shaded page and pushed it into his pocket. Walking over to the fridge he casually took a candy bar. "Our motto, remember?"
Ginji didn't think the retrieval mission included the contents of the mini-bar, but he was too hungry to argue with his friend's logic.
Reluctantly he took the remaining packet of peanuts and the bottled water before Ban grabbed that, too.
"So, did you find anything on the pad?" Ginji inquired before opening the bag of peanuts and dumping the whole lot into his mouth.
"Just flight confirmation details," Ban disappointingly replied. "He's leaving tomorrow morning so at least we know the pick-up is today."
He sat on the edge of the bed, chewing on the candy bar and considered what to do next. They could continue to tail Kojio all day and pounce when the target was in sight. But Ban knew this wasn't their style, and besides, it wasn't guaranteed they would catch him with the parts anyway.
They would definitely need to get close to Kojio somehow.
Ban pounded his fist into the mattress. "Shit. We've got no choice."
He sprung off the bed and hurried to the writing desk. He placed Clayman's card on it and hesitated.
Ban was aware that the business card advertised an enjo kosai (1) club. Judging by the quality and design of the card, he could tell this was no random set-up of amateur teenage sex-for-sale. This club seemed organized, classy and exclusive to a select clientele – probably one that Kojio patronized before.
He wasn't quite sure how the situation would play itself out once they used the card, but it was the most viable option at the moment.
As Ban wrote one of the Get Backers' decoy cellphone numbers on the back of the enjo kosai card, he didn't know what pissed him off more – the fact that they had to use Clayman's backup plan or that she might've known something like this could happen all along.
"Come on, Ginji. We're done here."
"But how is that card going to help us?" he asked as they walked to the foyer.
Ban crouched down before the door and placed the card strategically on the carpet, as if it were slipped under the gap. Then carefully, they stepped out and exited through the fire escape.
"If we can't get to Kojio, then we'll have to let Kojio come to us," Ban said as they flew down the stairs.
(1) enjo kosai : literally, "compensated dating", where high-school aged girls desperate for shopping money are paid by older men for dates/sexual services. Telephone clubs and anonymous chat lines are advertised through flyers and business cards and "dates" are arranged by mobile phone or e-mail.