To her neighbors, Motoko was a rich widow; stoic but noble. She was only whispered about in the area, known as 'that woman' or 'her'. When she had first moved in, a few of the other woman in the neighborhood (if you could call it that – there were acres and acres between their properties) had stopped by, heard her clipped story and seen her somewhat intimidating nature… then backed off immediately. Obviously, she was not going to be a member of their Tuesday night bridge and bitch club.
To his neighbors, Batou was the token security guard; completely dedicated to his job to the point of being unable to mention his place of employment. He lived in the downtown area of nice apartments and not-so-nice neighborhoods. All his neighbors really knew about him was that he had a job, a housekeeper, and a dog. The dog was fairly quiet, so they didn't mind her, and the few children that lived in the old complex adored the basset hound as only children could.
As far as his neighbors knew, Togusa was still happily in the police force, though sometimes it seemed to them that he was out later and left earlier. Some of the women whispered that perhaps he was having an affair – mentioning the woman that had stopped by once, over a year ago. His wife knew that that had been Motoko when she came to recruit, and it broke her heart to play stupid – but when she saw him on the news one day, standing behind Prime Minister Kayabuki as a body guard, she swelled with pride.
Bormer and Ishikawa shared a small flat, and they were rarely at it enough for anyone to notice them. When they moved in, they said they were high school buddies providing tech support for the government. It was close enough to the truth.
Pazu's neighbors never asked about his job or his life. That was the way mafia hang outs worked – the less you knew about a person and the less you told them, the better. His life was forfeit if they ever discovered his true occupation, but it never bothered him.
Saito bounced around. Occasionally he crashed at an old girlfriend's, sometimes with a war buddy. Sometimes he just went to a hotel for the hell of it. It wasn't that he couldn't afford a place, he just still had an inability to settle down. He couldn't say his occupation was helping to cure that ability, but in reality, it didn't bother him. All he really needed was a couple changes of clothes to tote around and a semi-warm space to crash in.
It was interesting, Aramaki thought, the lives that his team led. They were truly double agents. Even he never told the whole truth when asked about his career. It never seemed safe. That was why they all kept their masks – their protection against the world – on. He wondered if, sometimes, it was a protection against themselves as well.
Yay, evolving drabbles. Funfun.