"Can you repeat that last part?" The puffy-haired ginger's eye twitched while he tried to determine the sincerity of his government's representative.
"The being that blew up the moon is currently teaching a class of third years up in the mountains near Kunugigaoka Junior High School's main campus," the official repeated, "as per his request."
"I get that part. I mean the very last part about him being… I must have misheard, because it sounded like you said 'an octopus'."
"Yes." At this response, the reporter simply blinked. "More tea?" The official offered him a fresh cup as if nothing abnormal had been said.
"I'll hold off, thanks." Tintin began to wonder if someone had spiked his drink. This man couldn't be serious. "An octopus?"
"At any rate, some species of cephalopod. Possibly a squid."
"And… it… he is teaching a class? How…?"
"He's completely sentient," the official explained, "almost human in terms of intellect. Can speak the English language fluently, as well as Japanese. The local government is convinced that he knows a lot more than these, though its knowledge is limited."
"And you want me to attend this school?"
"Simply for informational purposes. The children will be trying to eliminate the threat. Our government wants you to be there to collect insight on this thing."
"Please tell me I won't be attending as a student." Tintin had a baby face, but even he knew the chances of him passing as a third year were slim.
"No, and you won't be attending as a professor either. Although you have had dangerous experiences, you lack the qualifications needed to teach."
"What kind of stuff are these kids being taught?" The reporter finally decided he wasn't hallucinating this conversation and picked up and slowly sipped the aforementioned cup of tea, figuring it was safe.
"Logically, they're learning the art of assassination," the official said, earning a spray of spit and hot water. Tintin nearly dropped his cup as he broke out into a coughing fit, trying to recover from his choking spell.
"These-kids-are-fourteen!" He said it as one word, his eyes bulging.
"And this shocks you? Some of your exploits were accomplished at a young age, as I understand it."
"I started at age sixteen. And I've never actually had to kill anyone!"
"Which is exactly why we aren't sending you there as a professor," the official agreed.
"I'm not sure I can condone the ethics of this assignment – or rather the lack thereof." You want me to go to a school that teaches kids murder, he internally exclaimed. The thought sickened him.
"If you do your job correctly, these kids can go back to their normal lives soon. Japan believes the target is solely within their jurisdiction, simply because he turned himself into their government and requested to remain in the country to teach within a local school system. But, the moon didn't belong to Japan when it was blown to smithereens. And Planet Earth doesn't belong to Japan either." The official stood and walked towards the window, his gaze fixed on the busy streets of Brussels. "The target claims he intends to destroy our world in the same fashion in about a year's time. Obviously, we can't wait around for him to achieve these goals. And we can't just wait and see if Japan comes up with a solution. That's where you come in." He glanced at Tintin over his shoulder. "Your reconnaissance will aid Belgium's endeavors in ending this threat."
"I don't think Japan's government will take lightly to a European trying to scope out their mark." He said this distastefully. Though he was simply being sent as a representative, it felt like he was being sent to finish the job himself.
"Class 3-E is a unique setting. The government doesn't put much stock in these kids. It tasked them with assassinating the target simply because he would be within proximity. The truth is that the government has little to no trust that they can actually do it. That said, the school is basically seen as a base of nobodies. Anyone that goes up to the mountain is basically regarded as unimportant, invisible. Besides, I was able to pull a few strings with some officials."
"Let me guess," Tintin said, "people that owe you favors."
"Actually, people that owe you. You've contributed a lot to global politics, my friend," the official corrected. Maybe, but collecting debts was not the reason I did it, Tintin thought.
"Let's say I refuse," he said. "What then?"
"We would simply find someone else to take the job. Their work would be sloppier, second-rate even, but it would suffice. However," the man turned back to face the young reporter, "they will likely not show sympathy towards the students, may even go out of their way to go rogue and attempt to kill the target themselves."
"And why would they do that?" Tintin thought he would make another attempt at the tea, which was a lot cooler at this point.
"The reward is ten billion dollars." Once again, the reporter choked and spluttered. "High price for a high-profile target. Do I have your attention?"
"They really don't believe in these kids," he finally said. The reward – it's like flaunting their impossible odds in their faces.
"Getting information on the target is for more than just national glory," said the official, "though I will not lie: it would be nice to have our country remembered as a hero during one of the world's most trying times. It's a chance for these kids to get off the hook, get back to their normal lives. No minor should have to kill, and they certainly shouldn't be hired to do so like a common thug or mercenary. You can see that. You have values. Some officials might call it a weakness. I like to think of it as a strength. In fact, you're the only person I would recommend for this mission. Anyone else would think solely of themselves, being prompted by greed, not caring who got in the way, no matter how old or young. You don't operate that way."
"You aren't asking me to kill him," Tintin clarified.
"If we wanted such a hasty decision, we would have assigned someone else. No – you don't have to kill him." For a moment, the reporter stirred the matter over. Espionage wasn't normally his forte. Investigating legends and rumors was. But, if it meant a less messy way of saving the world…
I don't like it, Tintin thought, but perhaps he has a point.
"When do I leave?" he voiced. The official gave a small smile, returned to his seat, and pulled a thin manilla folder from a bag on the floor.
"Tomorrow at first light." The man handed him the file. "Two tickets are enclosed. I know how you feel about bringing your dog." Tintin smiled at this. At least, he would have Snowy with him. "Thank you. I know this makes you uncomfortable, but I feel better knowing you're taking this assignment and not some loose cannon."
"No problem," he said, though his mind quipped, It's kind of a problem. It's kind of a big problem, morally speaking. But he simply shook the official's hand to seal the deal.