Disclaimer: I own nothing.


"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."-Voltaire


Chapter Four
The Voice

Yagami Hikari paced the floor of the lobby of Minerva, occasionally glancing at the watch on her left wrist or mumbling under her breath. The secretary stationed by the door of Sora's office was giving her a very strange look until she glared at the woman, who hurriedly busied herself with some forms on her desk.

With a heavy sigh she slumped into one of the several unoccupied chairs and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes flickered to a mirror across from her and she nervously checked her appearance.

Hikari was pretty with dark brown hair reaching to mid-back, pale skin, and deep chocolate eyes. She was athletic though a little on the scrawny side but the spark of determination in her sharp orbs would be enough to convince almost anyone not to mess with her. She wore a light brown jacket, a white blouse with the first two buttons undone, a long jean skirt, and black heeled boots. Her lips were brought out with pink lipstick and lilac eye shadow outlined her eyes.

She wrung her hands in her lap, the fingers of her left hand tapping against the knuckles of the right, and fell back into her own little world. So caught up in her thoughts she didn't notice that the actual Head of Minerva stood in front of her until the older woman coughed.

Jumping about five inches in her chair she gazed into the neutral face of Takenouchi Sora, her brother's ex and in some wacky twist of face her partner in the terrorist case. Sora was beautiful in a girl-next-door way with short, just shoulder-length auburn hair, bright ruby eyes edged with black eye liner and eye shadow, naturally tan skin, and an amply muscled frame from years of police work and training.

Sora was dressed casually, as usual, in a black leather jacket, a black long sleeved shirt under it, blue jeans that were so well taken care of that they looked brand new, and black sneakers with white laces and checks on the sides. A silver crucifix dangled around her neck, popping out of her shirt, and a shoulder holster holding a Firestar hung from her left shoulder, crossed over her chest, and hit against her right hip.

The detective merely stared down at her, ruby orbs blank, revealing no emotion. Hikari scrambled to her feet, extending her hand in the process. "Yagami Hikari. I'll be working with you on this case."

For one long, tense moment Sora did not move to shake her hand and Hikari began to lower it. Surprisingly the other female grabbed it at the last minute and stated, "The pleasure is mine." Her eyes flickered to Hikari's face as the two broke contact and the brunette fought the strong urge to recoil even farther.

Sora's eyes seemingly took in every single detail of Hikari's face, memorizing every inch in just one glance. The brunette shivered, feelings as all of her past failings were being read by the other, and she sighed in relief when Sora finally looked away.

"Your first case, huh?"

She blinked. "Yeah…how did you…"

The corners of Sora's mouth twitched upwards, almost forming a smile. "You don't have a blank, cop face yet. I can read you easily."

"I…"

"Are you Taichi's sister?"

"Um yeah," she muttered, frowning. "Did he show you a picture of me or something? I know we never met while you two were dating."

"You have his eyes."

Before Hikari could reply, Sora had turned on her heel and strode out of the department leaving the younger girl little choice but to follow her. The rest of the way, to wherever the other was leading her, was spent in a frosty silence.


The Department of Muses is the busiest out of all the other Departments in Aetna. Techies and camera men bustled around from place to place, almost colliding with reporters and journalists alike and scattering pages of the latest news coverage all over the floor. There were a few actors from government approved television shows and movies asking questions before rushing off to their respective sets.

The room was rectangular and divided into rows of cubicles; the walls were painted a sickly green color and only one or two pictures of the ocean were placed on them. As Sora lead Hikari through the room, avoiding crashing into several people, the brunette looked into them. They contained a desk, with or without someone behind it, as well as a small built in computer and piles of paperwork but they differed from each other in one way: what the occupants put on their walls. Some had snapshots of their families or friends, others clippings from newspapers, and still others had rather miscellaneous decorations; they passed a man whose décor consisted of cuttings of comic strips.

Finally Sora motioned for Hikari to follow her into the largest cubicle with a name plate reading Inoue Miyako on it. At first glance she thought the space to be unoccupied. A computer and heaps of computer parts and other technological devices had been piled on top of the desk, blocking the view of the other side of the room. So she was startled when a face poked around at them from above the unorganized mess.

"Can I help- Oh Takenouchi it's you! ….and…Takenouchi's friend."

A woman around twenty-three years old stood from the hidden chair behind the desk and Hikari had to straighten up to have eye contact with her; Miyako was taller than average for a woman. She was all extremely slim with lightly tanned skin, long lavender colored hair that flowed an inch or two past her waist, a pretty oval face and hazel eyes hidden behind large glasses. She wore a light blue bandanna with white flower designs, a grey tee shirt, baggy black jeans, a black sweatshirt wrapped around her waist, and black combat boots.

She nodded at Sora and looked questioningly at Hikari who practically jumped to say, "Yagami Hikari."

She nodded and her eyes flickered to Sora's face. "New partner, huh?" Before either of the other two could answer she plowed on, "And I suppose you're hear to hear what Shindou's got to say about the terrorist."

The auburn haired woman smiled faintly. "Read my mind, Inoue."

"C'mon," replied Miyako, grabbing a ring of keys from somewhere under the mess and lead them down the corridor to a room on the far left. Jamming one of the silver keys inside she pushed the door open and slammed it shut once they were inside.

The room was dark with the only light coming from the many television screens built into the right wall. A black, revolving chair rested in front of the screens and Miyako collapsed into it, spinning it to the left. Blue light reflected off the lenses of her glasses giving her an unsettling look and the other two opted to stand a few feet behind her.

"Shindou's gonna be on in about a minute or two. That man's got some voice I tell you! Really strong…no wonder Sakuma chose him be the head of department after the war."

Every image on the screen was replaced of that with a man standing behind a podium, ready to give a speech. Miyako whispered, "It's a beautiful thing. The destruction of individual thought."


Three days later and the terrorist had not struck again, although young Kido had upped the amount of Spartans on duty so much that they could now be seen stationed on street corners. Three days with no trouble.

Shindou Ryuichi congratulated himself on a job well done. His rousing speech had obviously backed the woman into a corner and with the heightened police force there would be no way in hell she would try anything. Now all that was left for her was to fade into the background and life could go on.

He frowned; they were all being a bunch of pansies. If it were up to him, the government wouldn't have busied itself with stopping her but with catching her and locking her away for good. He sighed loudly since it wasn't up to him and grabbed the CD player with a recording of his speech before heading out of the office.

After saying farewell to the night watchman outside the building he turned the recording on. His powerful bellow of a voice filled his own ears:

"Japan, I have grave news. Yesterday's destruction was the act of a terrorist working to shatter every aspect of life in this country. This terrorist, reportedly a woman, is trying to destroy us from the inside, use fear against us."

Ryuichi was not an imposing man; he was just shy of five feet three inches with sallow skin, a slender build, curly black hair, a boyishly round face, and watery blue eyes. His nose looked like it had been broken and hadn't healed correctly and his lips were pale and thin. He wore a dark green coat, a black button up shirt, neatly pressed beige dress pants, and highly polished black shoes.

He was the type of man who had spent his entire childhood desperately out running the neighborhood bullies and being pounded into a bloody pulp whenever he wasn't fast enough. He was not athletic, he was not skilled in any one particular area despite being unusually brilliant, and if it were not for the fact that his voice had deepened considerably during puberty, he would not be running his own department.

"But we will not be cowered by terrorist threat. She thinks she can weaken us by cowardly, guerrilla warfare tactics, but I have news for her. If you are watching this know if you ever come after us again, I will show you what terror means!"

The recording ended and he switched it back on as he neared the street where his apartment building was located. Shivering he noticed that the area was oddly vacant, not even a single Spartan was in sight. Feeling shaken he hurried to reach the door of his building, not wanting to be out in the dark alone, but he never made it.

Two strong hands grabbed him by the hem of his coat and threw him into an adjacent alley. He landed with a loud thump on his back, staring up at the sky, and wondering what in the world had happened to him.

A face, no, a mask appeared above him, framed by a curtain of honey colored hair and he gulped as he stared into the eyes of the terrorist. "Who are you," he managed to choke out.

"I am the devil. And I have come to do the devil's work."

After that all he knew was darkness…


Footnotes:
The Departments-Yes, the structure of the government is a nod to the Harry Potter Ministry of Magic.

"It's a beautiful thing. The destruction of individual thought."- This line was paraphrased from one by a character named Syme from George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. The original line was: "It's a beautiful thing. The destruction of words."

"I am the devil. And I have come to do the devil's work."- This is a quote from a famous murder case in the 1970's. I couldn't find the exact origin but I believe it was from the David Berokowitz, Son of Sam, trial.


Author's Notes: That's all for now. I should be able to update again soon…hopefully. Please read and review.