Chapter 6

Commander Tooru Hirai sat behind the desk, his hand rested on his automatic military rifle lying across his lap. He stared calmly, too calmly for Kokufu's comfort. With his hands secured behind his back, Kura's acting chief sat on the floor in the corner where he'd been shoved quite some time ago after the door to his office had been reduced to splinters. He hadn't had a chance to get his handgun from the hidden desk draw before the muzzle of that automatic rifle had been thrust into his face.

How could this be happening? It had been just another day until that moment. Now, he had no idea what was going on beyond his office. How could someone have possibly broken in and seized control of everything? Kokufu had only caught the man's name because of a careless call through an EMP protected walkie talkie, another thing he had learned.

Keeping his mouth shut had paid off, for a while Hirai had forgotten about him.

After grabbing Kokufu's pass badge, Hirai had left him under guard and vanished for about an hour, time was hard to gauge. When Hirai had returned with his chest puffed out, he flopped into the desk chair and picked up the nameplate.

"Chief Shirou Kokufu, so you're the one running this joint. Funny, that ain't the name I was expecting, and you ain't half as old as I was expecting neither."

Kokufu met his gaze. "I took over recently. Now, I'm sure whatever you want, we can make an arrangement."

"Kura? Make an arrangement?" He snorted a laugh. "That's your inexperience talking, suit. And frankly, that's the bull crap bureaucracy beaten into white-collar civies like you. I'm not here to negotiate."

Don't rile him up. Keep it calm and slow. "There must be something you are after."

Slowly he smiled. "You could say that." His knee jostled the firearm. "I'm here to file a grievance."

A crackle over the walkie talkie caught his attention. "Commander? Everything is set now."

"Everything?"

"Yes, sir. What are your orders for the pigeons?"

Hirai stroked the trigger of his gun. "They are nothing but clay to us now."

"Confirming order, did you say they are both clay pigeons?"

"Confirmed."

"Copy that."

A scuffle broke out followed by a distant voice screaming, "No wait! God, you wouldn't be here without us! This wasn't the deal! Hold on—there's something more you need to know! There's this guy—"

BANG! BANG!

Two successive thuds, then silence.

"Objective completed, sir."

Kokufu's eyes widened as Hirai set the walkie talkie onto the desk and watched him with steel cold eyes. Hirai tapped his gun. "What a shame. But at least they served a good purpose. Target practice. Now, what was that about making arrangements? I hope you've made yours—for a funeral."

~ID~

"Focus everyone." Momoki stood at the front of the conference room, the useless screen behind him. He glanced at each in turn. Habutae leaned against the door frame keeping an eye out into the hall. Togo and Shiratake both sat at a table close to the middle of the room, watching him. Fukuda reclined in the chair near the door, studying his fingernails and picking at them idly. Wakashika remained near the center of the room, his eyes playing tennis between the two inmates, his anxiety on his sleeve. Still leaning against the window, soaking in the sunlight pouring through, Narihisago remained with his head bowed, gaze following the tracing of the light on the floor. Momoki felt the weight in their situation as he spoke, "We might be the only ones with access to the building. We don't know much about what's going on, but we need to treat this like a dive. So, let's start piecing things together."

Wakashika held onto an elbow, eyeing the silent Narihisago as though expecting him to speak up. When he didn't, Wakashika took a long breath. "Well, we know they are seriously armed, likely from the military because they have the gear and restricted weapons. There are no distinguishing marks on their uniforms. Those were in fact uniforms of some sort."

From the door, Habutae added, "Wish we had a chance to search for active files. But I have to say one thing, that gear is older. Not just because of the wear, but the style. There were some redesigns that went into effect a few years back. Can't put my finger on it without checking, but they aren't current issue."

Shiratake leaned back in his chair. "That would mean they're posers and got it from surplus, or it's older equipment from their own active days."

"But the main question is how would they have known about the Wellside?" Togo glanced up. "There are office workers who have been here from the first days that don't know about the Mizuhanome other than the term."

Narihisago didn't look up as his voice intruded into the conversation. The team jumped, not used to him being in the room, they'd more or less forgotten him. "That's easy. Someone who would have known about it broke the nondisclosure agreement."

Togo blinked. "No one working here would do that."

He slowly crossed his arms. "No one currently working here. Have you thought about those no longer employed here? What would they have to lose?"

Momoki's brow creased. "That's a short list."

"I'll make it shorter for you."

"Wait, you know who breached? How?"

He locked eyes with Momoki, that sly tired smile on his face. But before he could even say it, Fukuda remarked dryly, "Where are the guards who were on duty the night Narihisago pushed the Pyrotechnician into suicide?"

Slowly, Narihisago turned his gaze to Fukuda and offered a raised hand. "That. Right there."

"You noticed?"

Fukuda reclined in the chair, looking almost like a teenager trying to appear cool. The effect failed because of his scar. "I can't say that should be surprising. What else do we have to pay attention to down there but the few things that change in our stagnant environment. The guard's shifts are one of a few constant changes."

"He's right." Narihisago offered him a begrudging nod. "Momoki, you were still rather pissed at me, so we never really talked about the repercussions after I was released from solitary to tease out the gravedigger copycat. My guess would be they were fired for their lapse. It's not like I can turn a killer's drive in an instant. It took quite some time for him to … "

"Narihisago! Do you really think now is a great time to describe that."

He bowed his head, cupping one of side of his face before dropped the hand. "Fair enough … you get my point."

"Yes." Momoki released the tension in the fist he didn't realize he'd been making. "Yes, they were fired before their next shift. But the NDA should protect Kura."

"Should. But if you knew a powerful secret and were angry enough about at the organization hiding that secret, what would you do?"

"I would never—"

"Ok, you wouldn't. But, put yourself in the place of a shallow bastard unwilling to take responsibility for losing your job because you were slacking?" Narihisago's motionless gaze had a weighty effect, boring into Momoki. "It's just a theory, but since I've had the chance to walk through the access to the Mizuhanome's Wellside, cell block security would know the access pathway because they have it. It adds up, even from our limited perspective." He gestured toward Fukuda, who blinked in response.

"Traitors. But … that still leaves us with motive. Damn it, I wish we had access to his id well."

"Would make it easier." Studying the sunlight tracing across his foot, Narihisago edged up, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Wait … I think we did. Two keys, two mechanisms purposefully placed far apart."

Fukuda gave a short laugh. "The only way to make them work was two minds committed to it in tandem."

"And where do we see that safeguard the most?" He snapped his fingers.

By some miracle Narihisago and Fukuda's replies came in perfect unnerving monotone stereo. "Military weapons of mass destruction."

Momoki tensed.

Narihisago tapped his forehead with a finger. "Where were those cognition particles collected from?"

Togo stood up. "About a mile from the building."

"Probably while he was doing his final planning. Yeah, I'd bet that was him." Pushing off from the windowsill, Narihisago continued to tapping. "That symbolism … two minds committed to a serious, no-going-back decision. That is anything but a good sign. That means th … " In mid stride Narihisago's eyes rolled backward.

Catching motion, Momoki spun to try and intercept as Narihisago's body lost all its tension, rather like someone had switched off the signals. In a mad dash he halfway caught the weight as Narihisago collapsed to the floor, completely limp. "Shit! What happened?"

Everyone raced closer, even Fukuda lingered at a distance, only Habutae remained by the door stealing frantic glances. "Guys, did he just have a stroke?"

"Narihisago, are you alright? Answer me!"

"Wait!" Togo leaned closer. "His eyes. Watch, see that pattern? He does that in a dive!"

"A dive? But that's impossible outside of the cockpit."

Fukuda cleared his throat. "Uhh, are we forgetting about the little 'incident'?" He did air quotes around the final word.

Momoki locked eyes with him. "But, the rest of us are awake. When that happened it spread indiscriminately. How can this be … ?" He wanted to check Narihisago's pulse, but his hand wouldn't out of fear of jarring him out of it if this was a form of a dive.

"No clue. But uh, don't worry about touching him. If he's right about the whole parallel to dreams stuff, he won't be easily awakened. The guy talks in his sleep a fair amount and trust me, the guards have had a bitch of a time getting him out of a similar state before. I've seen them pick him up and shake him before his eyes opened." He snickered. "Oh you should see how scared they are when they do it. Some schmuck gets volunteered for the task and practically shits his pants."

Cautiously, Momoki put his finger to Narihisago's neck, counting. "Slightly elevated, but steady."

"Heh, considering he's probably confused as fuck, elevated sounds normal." Fukuda cocked a knowing grin. "Or there's another reason."

All eyes glanced to him and the oddly amused grin twisting his face.

Fukuda shrugged and tapped his forehead three times. "Told you, the dude talks in his sleep. Oh, and you might not want to be leaning over him when he comes to, unless you want a concussion. He tends to sit bolt upright rather quickly. "

~ID~

Thrashing in the water, even though it was only above his ankles, Akihito struggled to flip over and push himself up out of the grip. Coughing and gagging, he shouted, "Kiki! You can't pull that shit when I'm awake! I was standing up. You could have killed me. What if I hit my head when I collapsed?"

Kiki ran to him, eyes wide in a panic. "Akihito! There isn't time." She grabbed onto his arm, tugging frantically. "There's a man in the building!"

He heaved a sigh, rubbing the dripping water from his face. "Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

"No!" Her tugging became more frantic, harder. "You don't know the half of it!"

"Stop yanking my arm off, Kiki. Why did you bring me here?"

"To warn you, everyone is great danger." She took his hands and gripped them together. "Akihito, you have to do something!"

"Easy now. Slow down so I can follow you."

Tears welled in her eyes. "You have to stop him before he blows up the building with everyone locked inside it!"

His eyes widened. The id well … the two buttons. Weapons of mass destruction. Oh shit! Kura was ground zero!

"I didn't know how else to reach you. I'm sorry." She tightened her grip, nails digging into his skin. "But there isn't time. Look, you have to see! Look!"

The watery field vanished replaced by war-torn ruble. Soldier boots pounded the crumbling world. More than one squad roaming the pits of hell and wallowing in their unleashed desires. The acts that played out were vile enough to chill the blood. Akihito stared at them as they posed for photos in the bloody landscape …

Koji Huyukawa! The Pyrotechnician. But … he's dead. This can't be a reflection of his id well. This wasn't actually in his id well.

In a flash the vision changed. Photos held up in a court martial hearing showing the atrocities of war. Huyukawa up on the stand, animatedly defending another squad. He held up photos he had taken of them.

Kiki tugged on Akihito's arm and pointed to the man in uniform at the defendant table. "Commander Tooru Hirai."

A General crossed the floor and ripped his rank and name badge from his uniform, followed by tearing the same from the remaining nine men who stood behind him.

Narihisago gasped. "Disbanded. All ten of them. The whole squad!"

She nodded. "They'd been caught for war crimes … but Hirai doesn't remember it that way. It's been replaying over and over and over again." She gripped his arm, hugging it tight.

Before them the squad sat in a bar looking up to him as a shining hero, Huyukawa in their midst as though he were part of the adjacent squad after the loss of his own. The edges of the bar faded to nothing … a vast empty world. Nothing else … and then, in a flash … Huyukawa vanished. The squad panicked, driven into a wild frenzy, reducing their world to splinters in their search. At long last, Hirai stood in the burning halls of Kura, staring into the heavens as the fires consumed him surrounded by nine bodies.

His mouth ran dry as he tried to blink. "That man has no imagination. It's all … literal."

"Akihito!" Kiki's hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling his head down. "I'm sorry … but you have to stop him!" She pressed her other hand to his forehead and in a strange fast forward he zipped through the hallways up to the chief's office where Hirai stood, waiting with the bomb in his hand, insanity blazing in his eyes.