Chapter 5

Wakashika gestured toward the door. "Habutae, give me a hand here."

The two grabbed onto the solid wood conference room door and tried to wrench it open. Even gritting their teeth didn't alter facts. After a full minute of wrestling they released it and backed away, panting. Habutae shrugged his shoulders. "Well, they thoroughly locked us in here. No doubt about that."

Shiratake eyed them. "I want to see Wakashika try and ram the door like an action hero again."

Rubbing his shoulder, he grunted. "I thought it would work. It always does in the movies."

"The door opens inward."

"I know that—now."

Standing by the window, Momoki stared outside ten stories below to the ground level. Nothing looked amiss outside the front of the building. No one would know anything was wrong in the secure facility. With the phones dead and all things electrical disrupted, they had no access to any form of communications.

Cut off. Strategically.

And worse, he had no idea where they had taken all of security. Without much conversation, they had shoved the Wellside crew into this conference room and abandoned them here.

Shiratake and Togo heaved tandem sighs as they both took seats.

"Momoki," Togo caught his attention, "what do you think this is about?"

But it was Wakashika who answered before he could collect his thoughts properly. "A bunch of wannabes playing soldier? Good question. They do know how to barricade a door, though."

Shiratake rested his head in a hand. "We know they have security corralled too. Do you think they have everyone else in the building secured?"

In the silence Togo turned her gaze to Momoki. "Sir … I have to ask … "

He gave the minutest of head shakes. He didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. Frankly he had no idea if Narihisago even possessed the initiative to overcome the conditioning of his years in prison. Aside from the moments when he lost his self control and burst into a fit of rage, he'd been entirely listless unless given an order. Their only hope at this point could still be seated in the cockpit, waiting, for all Momoki knew.

Her eyes shifted for a moment, searching for a tangent. "Chief Kokufu? Do you think they have him too?"

Good. She caught his vibe. "Hard to say. But to get even close to gaining access to the Wellside floor they would have needed a clearance pass. Given how few in the building have that … " Yes, the chances were beyond reason that they had already seized Kokufu, which is how they had known how to reach the Wellside. No one had accompanied them, but he was fairly certain he had seen the pass card in the commander's hand. Not just anyone's, but the Chief's. "I hope he's ok."

Wakashika paced along the edge of the room. "What we need is a plan to get out of a locked room."

"Great," Shiratake peered through his fingers. "We not only have a squad of make-believe soldiers, but you're going to play brilliant detective."

"Have a bit of confidence in me. I mean, the door is obviously out." He rubbed his shoulder. "But there are things like air ducts." Climbing up onto a chair, he reached for the vent cover.

"And which part of you is going in there?"

Wakashika blinked. Leaning back he realized that the duct wasn't much bigger than the spread of his hand. Crestfallen he slumped down in the chair.

"Yeah." Shiratake folded his hands and let his chin rest on them. "This isn't an action film. This is reality. And we are stuck."

"Sure, just burst my bubble, why don't yah."

~ID~

Pausing at the corner, Narihisago listened for the span of at least a minute, keeping his breathing as quiet as possible.

Fukuda snickered and walked past him, shoes slapping the hall floor.

"What are you doing!"

"Hurrying this up." Fukuda shrugged a shoulder. "You are way too cautious about this."

"Too cautious? This isn't a dive with a reset. We're in a building that's been taken over by a bunch of guys armed with large guns, likely automatics."

"And you saw that from the cockpit?"

"No, of course not." Narihisago folded his arms. "I heard them rattling on the carrying straps."

"I thought you were an ex-cop." His eyebrow quirked. "How'd you get military experience?"

"I've heard it in the well dives, alright? It's pretty distinct. But that doesn't even matter. They're heavily armed. I don't know about you, but how many bullets can you dodge?"

A twisted grin grew on Fukuda's lips. "Well, we know you can't even dodge one."

Narihisago's eyes widened. He followed Fukuda's finger pointing to the hole in his shirt. "Tch!" Grabbing the shirt, he roughly tucked it into the tied sleeves of his jumpsuit as far as he could. The gesture proved utterly pointless as the hole was too high and refused to remain concealed. Giving up in a huff, he turned and stalked off.

"What? It's true. Oh come on, I was just joking."

He didn't want to even hear it. And now his own steps echoed down the empty corridor. Damn it!

"Does it still hurt?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he grumbled, "Not really since it's healed. Now would you just shut up so we don't get shot. Or do you really want another hole in you?"

"You know, you're right. That would really put a damper on the day."

Covering his eyes with a hand, Narihisago groaned. The day? More like weeks or maybe an eternity, because of being dead!

"Hrm, would you look at this."

That came from behind him, which meant he'd stopped. Turning around Narihisago found him studying a plaque on the wall. Backtracking he discovered a large blueprint-esque diagram of the building. Narihisago's eyes widened. "Holy shit. Is that how big this building is?"

Fukuda pointed to a spot in the diagram on the first basement floor. "And this is where we entered the less secure areas on display here. Haha, wow, this really is the ultimate definition of living in a basement. Waaay in the basement. I had no idea that's where the cell blocks were. And of course, none of that super secret area is on this helpful little signage."

"Yeah." Narihisago studied the complicated structure. "That's the whole idea behind no one is supposed to know it even exists."

"About as secretive as Area 51. Might as well have a big sign that says, 'Nothing to see here, folks, move along'."

Ignoring his banter, Narihisago traced his finger over the floors. "Lots of typical rooms. Data Acquisitions, File Processing, Conference Rooms, Laboratories, Medical Unit which turns out is kinda big. Heh, even a morgue out back on ground floor, who knew. Offices on the upper stories. It's funny, but they're also concealing the location of the main server room. That's gotta be around here somewhere, no way that's tucked in a little closet. Wouldn't be surprised if that was its own floor."

Narihisago realized he felt rather alone. Darting around he discovered Fukuda was no longer lingering beside him. Where did he go, now?

The click of a door latch caught his attention. The second he read the door label a white hot surge of panic stabbed him in the chest. He raced down the hall and shoved Fukuda bodily from entering, slamming the Maintenance Closet door in the process. Landing haphazardly on top of him, Narihisago held him down as he protested, "Oh come on! I was just looking for stuff to help us out."

"You think I'm falling for that? I know damn well what's in that closet. And if you think I'm going to let you get your hands on a drill you're more screwed up than I thought."

The crocked smile on his uneven face told the whole story. Narihisago had, in fact, just dodged a bullet.

Furrowing his brow, Narihisago stood up and hauled him to his feet. "Yeah, that confirms it. Get moving. Obviously this floor is clear or someone would have come out with that bang."

As they walked along side by side Fukuda eyed him, rubbing his chin. "You know, you do a really lousy job at shaving."

Absently, he ran a finger over the stubble. Belatedly realizing he'd mirrored the gesture, Narihisago forced his hand down to his side and trudged up the stairwell. "Who's your hairstylist? Ryobi?" The footsteps dropped to only one set, Narihisago decided he was done babysitting. Let security round his ass up.

It took a moment, but Fukuda's steps caught up to him, a hand covering the scarred up side of his face. "That … was kind of harsh."

"Payback." Narihisago fingered the hole in his shirt. "You don't like it? Stop pestering me. I got a job to do."

"I'm just trying to have a conversation."

"This isn't the time for idle chatter if you want to live."

His steps paused again.

What now? Narihisago halted and looked down the few steps below where he stood looking at his hands.

"Do you really think there's still value to our lives?" There wasn't that half grinning delivery this time.

That wasn't the worst of it. Narihisago lingered there, lost in thought, discovering that in a hollow void … he couldn't find an answer to that. Not even a smart ass one. Slowly his shoulders fell as he turned to resume the climb, muttering, "Let's get going."

By some miracle a second set of footsteps followed his, he didn't have the heart to look back.

On the landing they paused. "Great, another floor just like the others." Narihisago wandered down the empty corridor passing by the open doors. Until one caught his attention. Shut, with a lock forced on the outside.

"That's not right. The doors have their own locking mechanisms."

Muffled voices carried through the heavy door. Instantly he knelt down, studying the lock. It was a typical heavy duty key hole. A sharp tug on it did nothing. There'd been the off chance that it hadn't been completely latched. He wasn't that lucky.

It would have to be picked. He gripped his chin, crouched and staring as though the lock would reveal its secrets.

"Ahem. Oh brilliant detective, you got a sudden fancy for mentalism or are you gonna do something about that?"

Glancing up to Fukuda over his shoulder he sighed. "I uhh … "

He smiled knowingly. "You don't know how to pick a lock, do you."

"Of course I don't." Narihisago looked at the floor. "I've never done it."

Crouching down, Fukuda pushed him out of the way. "Move over." Using his teeth he worked several dents into two straightened paperclips.

Narihisago gawked. "Where did you get those?"

He pointed to an open conference room. "In there, while you were pointlessly staring a hole in the lock." Impromptu tools finished, he inserted them into the lock, murmuring, "I know something you don't know."

"Oh yeah? Well, I know lock-picking is illegal. How did you come by this little skill?"

"Wow, you don't know? I thought you were such a keen eyed ex-cop. How do you think I set up my little hideouts around town? You think people just invited me in? Nah. I just used this little trick … and … " click, the lock opened. "Presto! Access granted."

Narihisago's eyes widened as he scrambled to catch the lock tossed at him.

"By the way, you're welcome. Now that I helped out, I'll just be on my way."

"Thanks." Narihisago grabbed the collar of his jumpsuit. "But you're not going anywhere."

"One question, what if that's where security is?"

"Then our field trip is over and we get to go quietly back to the cell block and leave this in their hands." Narihisago opened the door, holding his breath and sincerely hoping it wasn't security he had overheard. They wouldn't have their guns. But that wouldn't stop them from wrestling two roving inmates into the floor. He peeked around the door. Inside he found five worried pairs of eyes scattered around a conference room staring at the door, awash in instant relief.

"Oh hey, Momoki … I hope I got your message right. Either that or I'm probably in deep shit about now."

Momoki heaved a sigh. "Glad to see you, Narihisago."

Wakashika stiffened. "Wait, if he's up here … wasn't he with … oh no!"

Dragging the taller man into the room at an awkward angle by the collar of his jumpsuit, Narihisago gestured to Fukuda. "You mean him? Yeah. He's loose too." Pushing him toward a chair, Narihisago ordered, "Now sit and stop messing with shit."

"You know, I told you I wasn't a dog."

Narihisago and Momoki shouted in stereo, "Sit!"

Instantly Fukuda slumped into the chair, draping his arm over the back he heaved a sigh. He wasn't the only one to be surprised by the tandem impact. The Wellside crew blinked and glanced between the two of them.

Habutae stood watch by the door, glancing out every now and again for signs of anyone coming back their way in the deserted hall.

"Ahhh, director?" Wakashika made an abysmal effort to keep his voice down as he pointed at Fukuda in an poor attempt to hide it. "This is not good at all. I mean, we got a serial killer out of the cell block."

"A … ?" Fukuda scratched his chin while eyeing Narihisago.

Momoki held up a hand. "Honestly, I am impressed that he made it this far alive." It was his turn to eye Narihisago.

Under the weight of that stare, Narihisago put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. Eyes downcast, he trudged over toward the window. His gaze drifted toward the golden daylight streaming in.

Edging away from Fukuda, Wakashika meandered closer to Narihisago studying him up and down as he leaned against the windowsill idly gazing outside. "Hey, uh … you really don't look like your old picture. What's with the skate park reject look?"

Narihisago cocked his head, eyes narrowing lazily. "Are you color blind or did you get dressed in the dark this morning?" As Wakashika looked away, hastily scratching the back of his neck, he continued. "You do realize inmates don't get much in the way of choices, if any at all." He tugged on the tied jumpsuit sleeve, both main pieces of clothing labeled with Kura's logo—effectively marking him as property. "If you're like a typical guy on the force, you have a closet full of suits and ties to chose from. I only get what I'm wearing at the time. You think if I had a choice of shirts I would have picked this particular one—ever?" He stuck his finger through the hole.

More than one staffer flinched at that. Fukuda had the grace not to look up.

"Oh yeah, I guess not. It's just that … well …" Wakashika pointed nervously to Fukuda, "he wears it differently, you know, normal?"

Fukuda leaned back, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the unrolled sleeves and pant legs. A slow triumphant smile spread.

Uninterested in pursuing it further, Narihisago let his gaze wander out to the rays of sunlight. The warm glow against his bare arm distracted him. Up in the medical unit he had been able to see it while confined to bed rest, but they hadn't taken him close enough to feel the heat.

Too long. Too long since there had been anything real. He struggled to recall anything not artificial … what did a real breeze feel like? What season was it? Would there be a chill in the air or was it hot and humid? Were the birds singing? Memories cascaded like leaves dancing in the wind … Ayako kneeling on the picnic blanket, the ring shimmering in the sunlight. Absently he worried the base of his left ringer … empty. It felt so wrong.

Gradually he became aware of the rapt silence of the room. He turned to find Momoki a few feet away, much closer than before. Momoki wasn't the only one paying him undue attention. "Why is everyone looking at me?"

"Narihisago? Did you even hear a thing I said?"

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. Compromising, he faced him, but kept one arm back soaking in the sunlight.

"What is wrong with you today?"

Narihisago flexed a hand. "Good, you are paying attention. I mean, you are all standing in a room with a guy who's usually cuffed outside of a cell with very few exceptions. And I'm not talking about him." Gesturing to Fukuda he shook his head. "You know, there's a reason I moved to this side of the room. To give you all a clear shot at the door … just in case."

Stiffening, Momoki took a step closer. "Why do you bring crap like that up? Do you enjoy reminding me?"

"No." He narrowed his eyes. "I don't want you to forget and get careless."

"Fine. Tell me, are you alright?"

He paused, deep in thought. After a short delay, he nodded. "At the moment, yeah. But … you know how fast that can change, … it's a minute by minute thing. One word, one wrong visual; changes everything. And you're not the only one who knows that … " he glanced at Togo. "So does she."

Togo gripped her hands, making a professional effort not to let the lingering fear show.

"I'm sorry if I scared you that day." There it was again, an edge to his voice. He bit it off and shook his head. He couldn't even put his finger on it. Was it frustration at his own failure at self control?

Creasing his eyes, Momoki studied him. "No, this is something different. You're usually not this ornery. Seriously, what's with you?"

Narihisago sighed and looked off to the side, his ring finger twitching, Momoki's eyes shifted to catch the weird tick. "Just … something that happened last night … it's nothing, really."

Momoki's brow crinkled, a swift sign of apology for pressing. So he had picked up on the depth of the distraction. "As I said, we're not sure what we're up against. Didn't catch any names, and no identification marks on their gear. We have no idea where security is, and even if we did, they seized all their arms. Clearly they were well organized to have reached the restricted floors."

"They came in well armed, too."

He nodded. "Not even going to ask how you knew that."

"Clip rattles. From the straps. We've had more than one run in with military id wells. You don't forget that kind of detail when you're evading it. Let me guess, automatics?"

Shiratake didn't lift his head as he added, "Howa Type 89."

"Yup. Military." Narihisago nodded. "Checks out with their banter too. Course, the question is why they'd target here?"

"Very few people outside of Kura even know about it. Most just know it's a law enforcement division and not much more."

"Doesn't mean someone didn't talk about it. Having seen how large this organization is there's no way it's a total secret. This building doesn't exactly have a subtle footprint."

"What are we worried about?" Wakashika grinned gesturing to Narihisago. "We got you up here. So, we just send you in and have you go all Sakaido on them!"

Narihisago cocked his head glancing between him and Momoki. "That's not a thing, is it? Tell me that is seriously not a thing."

Everyone remained silent.

At length he shrugged. "Hate to be the disappointment of the day, but the majority of that is just on the other side of the dives. I don't actually possess most of those skills."

Wakashika held his hands out. "Oh come on. Seriously? You can't actually kick ass?"

Narihisago shook his head.

"But how … ?"

"It's less complicated than it seems. When you were a kid, ever had a dream where you flew a fighter plane in combat?"

"Well yeah, everybody has."

"Fought in a martial arts contest and beaten the previous champion?"

"Uhh, yeah."

"Went into outer space and walked on the moon? … without a space suit?"

Wakashika's jaw hung loose.

Narihisago held up a hand. "People do all sorts of unreasonable things in their dreams despite the years it would require to build those skills, or even a basis on reality." He paused, his head lowering as he touched the white bracelet. "Even if I had been able to … kick ass at one time, I've been incarcerated for like three years. Skills like that require some major upkeep."

"Aww man, and here I thought you could actually do all that shit."

Momoki interjected, "Nope. Back in his detective days, Narihisago was mainly known for his keen intellect."

He eyed Momoki. "Which reminds me, what idiot programmed that nonsense into the Mizuhanome... brilliant detective? Talk about arrogance. Even Holmes wouldn't have set a foot down that road."

Lifting a hand Momoki half closed his eyes, "And his offhanded remarks. Now shut up, Narihisago."

He mumbled, "You aren't the one forced to say that dive after dive."