Disclaimer: Still no luck. Still not mine. Damn ninjas are taking too long…
A/N: Yes, I know. Still no sign of Noa. I seem to have misplaced him… No, just kidding. He'll be introduced in a few. ;)
A few more minor characters (At least, I think they shall be minor. I'm not sure who's going to have a big impact on the story other than the Kaibas. I think some of them will, though.) are introduced in this chapter. It should be easy to guess who they are but if you want to double-check, you could always ask… in a review… (innocent blink)
Six months later…
It was a standard summons.
Seto wasn't sure why it made him so uneasy. He frowned down at it, rereading the stark black letters that contrasted so sharply with the crisp white of the page. The message, encoded so that no government spy would know what it said, was brief and to the point. Roughly translated, it read:
Agents S4913 and M7123 to report to HQ. Mission details to be discussed.
Burn this message.
Three simple sentences, identical to dozens of others sent to this same apartment, slid under the door like hundreds before it.
There was nothing different about it. There was nothing strange, no reason for him to be so perturbed.
But as he watched the tiny flame from his handheld lighter lick away at the paper, he knew one thing for sure.
He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.
The two agents ran through the sewer. They were nearing their destination, and each was looking forward to leaving the stench of raw sewage behind.
The tunnel ended abruptly as they came to the heavy steel door that led into the main part of the building. The black-haired agent knelt down and pried open a control panel, his fingers hurriedly working to hotwire the lock.
"Hurry up, will you?" his brown-haired companion groaned.
"Hey, I'm going as fast as I can!" was the aggravated reply. The agent winced as his hand brushed an exposed wire, shaking the shocked limb and hastily sucking on his stung finger. He returned his partner's glare, flipped his long hair over his shoulder, and returned to his work.
Half a minute later, he leapt to his feet as the door slid open, joining his partner with a drawn blaster.
…Only to be met with a dozen armed enemy soldiers on the other side.
The brown-haired agent grinned. "Oh, uh… Don't mind us, we're just your friendly local sewer monsters…
The assorted men and women surrounding the table burst into laugher. The object of their entertainment smirked and tool another swig of his drink. "So, D and I ducked back behind the door–"
"D and I, T?" the narrator's partner interjected. D4447 leaned back in his chair, his green eyes dancing with mischief. "Funny, I seem to recall something about me needing to shove you out of the way of getting a dozen new holes in your head."
"Aw, shuddup, D" T4501 flushed slightly as his audience laughed once again. "Who's the one tellin' this story, anyway?"
D4447 held up his hands innocently. "Just saying."
T4501 scowled sulkily, swallowing another mouthful of alcohol, and pressed on. "So, I said to D, 'You take the six on the left, and I'll handle the six on the right, and we'll meet in the middle. And so…'"
Mokuba chuckled quietly from his seat in the corner of the room. He loved to come down here to listen to the stories the more experienced Revolutionists told. He sipped thoughtfully at his own drink – lemonade, for though any registered agent could technically order any kind of drink they wanted, Seto had specifically told him to stick to non-intoxicating beverages. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Like he'd even want to have anything else. He didn't see what was so attractive about drinking fermented fruit and grain products.
A lot had happened to the two brothers in the past half-year. They'd gone on numerous missions, none of which were as strange as his encounter with young Rebecca Hawkins.
He gave a wry smile as he thought of the girl. He hadn't told anyone – not even Seto – about what had happened. He wasn't sure what the consequences of letting an enemy leave alive with an unknown disk would be, and he didn't want to find out.
He had watched the news anxiously for weeks after the mission, terrified that the girl would leak his name to the press and thus to his enemies, but there had been nothing. The police hadn't even figured out his number yet, or at least if they had, they weren't telling anyone.
He was getting better at these missions. With Seto's guidance, his skills and confidence had greatly improved. The older agent had shown him many tricks of the trade that had been neglected in his education, numerous ways to help make assignments easier – and to keep him alive.
His battleshock had gotten better, as well. Seto barely had to say anything to keep him from freezing up now. That didn't help his nightmares, but it was a start.
At least now he understood why his brother hated sleeping so much.
Seto had changed, as well, though his had been more physical than mental. He had added another inch onto his already impressive height, and though it finally appearedas ifhe'd stopped growing, Mokuba despaired that he'd ever catch up.
They had spent the teenager's sixteenth birthday performing a raid on an enemy naval vase. Mokuba would have thought that his brother would be upset about this, but if he had been, he hid it well. They had destroyed thirteen submarines, twenty-four enemy battleships, and three critical weapons shipments, subsequently killing over seven hundred men. They had come home to their apartment that night to be greeted by cupcakes smuggled up from the supply room, hot showers, and another night of nightmares.
Still, the rebel boy mused as he sipped at his drink again, it wasn't all bad. The other agents had been positively friendly, welcoming the newest member of their team with enthusiasm that was generally reserved for their work,
And at least he had Seto with him. Mokuba didn't think he would have been able to handle this without his brother's lifeline.
Speaking of his brother… The black haired boy looked up as if with a sixth sense in time to see the infamous teenager slip quietly into the casino.
Seto hated attention, and tried to avoid places like this as often as possible. The reason soon became clear, for despite the agent's ability to slip in and out of a government compound without being caught, he was quickly noticed in the crowded casino.
A rustle went through the crowd at the little-seen agent's appearance. Heads turned, following the boy's path across the room. The volume had dropped several levels, and the scrape of D4447's chair as he rose was clearly heard by all. Seto scowled as the black haired gambler hailed him.
"S4913! Well, this is an honor! Tell me, what brings you to our humble corner of the Revolution?"
Seto's eyes narrowed. "None of your concern."
Mokuba's hands tightened around his glass. The other agent was trying to start a fight, he was sure. His brother held the Revolutionist's respect, but his antisocial attitude had earned him no friends.
"Really, S4913, you should swing by more often! I'm sure you have some wonderful stories to tell."
Seto didn't answer, pushing past the green eyed agent on his way to his brother's table.
Another agent, a blonde by the number of J5030, called out, "What's de matter, S4913? Too good for de likes of us?"
Seto stopped, turning to face the blonde. He said simply, "If I didn't need to be on your sister's good side right now, I'd kill you where you stand." He ignored the other agent's indignant sputtering and pressed on once again.
In an effort to ease the building tension in the room, the bartender, a dirty old man that made Mokuba wonder how on Earth this establishment had managed to pass the Revolution's health regulations, hesitantly spoke up. "Can I offer you something to drink, S4913? On the h…" He trailed off, shivering at the icy glare that was shot in his direction.
"Spare me," Seto sneered, his voice cold. He had reached Mokuba's table by now, and the small boy looked up at him in anticipation at his next words. "I'm here on business."
The brunette slid into the chair beside his brother, turning to him and opening his mouth as if to speak. He then frowned, turning to glare at the rest of the bar. "Well?"
Slowly, the men and women scattered though the tavern turned back to their conversations and their drinks. D4447 returned to his seat; J5030 gave one last glare before turning away to face the tri-colored hair of his partner; T4501 picked up his narration, albeit a little less enthusiastically.
"You know, big brother, you could at least try to be more friendly," Mokuba chastised him when the noise had risen to a level where he could speak without having to worry about any eavesdroppers.
"Nonsense," was the dismissive reply.
Mokuba shook his head in exasperation, changing the subject. "Why do you need to be on J's sister's good side?"
"You'll see."
The boy sighed. "You said something about business?"
"We've been summoned."
"Again? That's the fifth time this month!"
"The war waits for no one, little brother."
Mokuba sighed again. "How much more time do we have?" Summons were to be answered within three hours after notification, no exceptions. Tardiness was a black mark in an agent's record. The two brothers as yet had no black marks, and they had no desire to acquire any.
Seto glanced at his chronometer. "Only an hour. It took me a while to find you. Do you come here often?"
"Not really." He left out that he might sojourn here more if he had the time.
"Good." Ice blue eyes glared around the room.
"…You know, they're really not that bad."
Seto snorted. "Finish your drink. We don't want to be late."
