A/N: Here's a second chapter. Sorry it's so short, they will beef up considerably later on. And there will be a plot, soon. This is the part that Doug and Fallac read a little of. They both told me not to kill myself.

The call that pulled up to the cemetery was extremely conspicuous. Big, black, new, expensive. The car pulled up in front of Hideki Motsuwa's three day old grave. Two figures got out. One was male, the other female. Both wore long black trench coats covered in buckles. They both had black hair, short for their respective genders, and a long rattail. The man was tall, but moved with an obvious grace. The woman was small but had an athletic body. They were both beautiful, though not surprisingly so in a world of cosmetic surgery and persecoms.

They approached the grave. The man crouched at it's foot. "So young."

"We're only seventy, Zima," the woman said. They both looked about twenty five. "Not that much older than him."

"We will be, though," Zima said.

"I would have liked to have come to the funeral."

"We'll have to come back and see what they put on the stone."

"Devoted son, loving husband, et cetera- doesn't seem right for him, does it?"

Zima stood up. "What would you suggest?"

She thought for a moment. "I died with you, you live on in me."

Zima chuckled. "Dita darling, you've gone sentimental on me," he accused, wrapping an arm around her waist."

"Never." She wriggled out of his hold.

"That's my girl. May your glass always be half empty."

"Cheers to that."

"Think we should pay a visit to the grieving widow?"

"No, we have to go to that meeting."

"Ah yes. Time to go consult to the mighty and see what they have planned for us. Maybe we'll get another trip to somewhere nice."

"That would be good, but I think they probably just want us to run maintenance checks. Get in the car, I'm driving."