Wake up, Singer. You are in danger.
Nezumi shot up in bed. His eyes darted around the room, but he didn't see any immediate threat. He could've sworn he had heard someone's voice.
Another nightmare?
He threw the covers off and looked over the loft railing through the window below. It was dusky outside, the sun only just beginning to peek over the horizon. A black and white car was pulling up to the front of the house. Even if the color scheme and affixed siren didn't give it away, it would have been fairly obvious that the car belonged to the Security Bureau; the old woman didn't get a lot of visitors, and Bureau officials were the only ones who ever drove directly to people's homes. Nezumi supposed this was primarily because normal citizens didn't need to bring portable cages on neighborly house calls. The siren wasn't on—not that he would've heard it if it was. That soundproof glass was a bitch.
Why would the Security Bureau be here? he wondered. Although, if he was being completely honest with himself, he could think of several reasons why the Security Bureau would be at his house. The last twelve years of his life had been a string of misdemeanors. So perhaps the question wasn't why was the Security Bureau here, but why was the Security Bureau here now? He couldn't remember doing anything recently that was grossly outside the norm of his typical deviance.
He frowned at the cars. Regardless of their reason for being here, he had no intention of being taken in for questioning.
He all but jumped down the staircase. He yanked on the first pair of boots he found lying on the floor and went to the window. If he slipped down from the balcony and made a run for it just as they got to the door, he would have a decent lead on them and a fair chance at escape. But how long was he expected to stay hidden? He had to come back to the house eventually, whether he wanted to or not. Would they still be waiting for him? It would be much easier to create a strategy if he knew why they had come.
He retraced yesterday's events. Perhaps Sasori had reported him to the government for the stunt he pulled with the pledge? He wouldn't put it past him, and that would be more than enough reason for the Bureau to pay him a visit. Although, it seemed strange that that would be the straw that broke the camel's back. After all, this hadn't been the first time he had embellished on the pledge.
He pulled at the window handle. It didn't budge. That was interesting. He hadn't locked it last night when he'd snuck in. He never did. Rather than trying again, he crossed over to the control panel. It told him the windows were locked, but the front door was open. He tried to disarm it.
Access Denied. The screen blinked an apologetic orange. He leered at it.
Not good.
"Takashi!" the old woman called from downstairs. "Wake up! Someone's here to see you. Takashi!"
He didn't like the tone of her voice. It wasn't her usual cloying, dear old grandmother voice. It was still cheerful, but it carried a note of excitement, as though the Security Bureau coming here to see him was the best surprise she'd ever received. Or maybe it wasn't a surprise.
Alarm bells went off in his head.
Did she call them here? Did she find one of the drives?
It was possible. The one in the living room was only just beneath the couch. If that was the case, and they knew he had planned for years to sabotage the city, this was definitely not a friendly house call.
His pulse skyrocketed, kicking his fight or flight response into near violent overdrive. Suddenly, it seemed he was surrounded by danger. It dripped from the old woman's words, permeated the air, and solidified in the shape of the black and white cars in the driveway. His instincts told him he needed to get out. Not just out of the house, but out of No. 6, drives or not.
"Sweetheart, answer me," the old woman crowed. "It's rude to keep your guests waiting." Her words were lilting. She sounded like she was having fun. No doubt she was; she thought she had him cornered.
He needed to calm down and think rationally. Where could he go? He thought of the sewage tunnels. No. 6 was pristine in every facet of its outward appearance, but its underbelly was rotten. He had seen the open sores with his own eyes. There was an old sewage network underneath the city that the government had, for some reason or another, elected not to block off. The openings to these pipes were sprinkled around the city, usually hidden out of sight in a ditch or an alleyway, and they had fascinated Nezumi with their stark and spurned existence. No. 6 was literally built on the filth of a past long forgotten and buried.
The tunnels might be too small to get through, but they were his only option. The one leading into Chronos was too dangerous with the Security Bureau so close behind him. He would aim for the one in Lost Town.
But first he had to get out of this room. He glanced around. A plan began formulating, but it was a risky one. Its success would rely on the players acting exactly as predicted, and precise timing on his part. But it wasn't as though he had any other options.
The staircase creaked. He froze. He went to the door to listen for a moment. Sure enough he heard footsteps leading toward him. Several sets.
So far, so good.
He heard the old woman grumbling to someone about his insolent behavior, but Nezumi slipped away from the door before he could hear anything else. He concealed himself underneath the staircase leading up to the loft.
The door opened and the old woman stormed in. "You should come when I call for you," she growled to the open air.
Nezumi raised an eyebrow. Well, well, well. At last, your true colors come out.
Upon realizing the object of her outburst was absent, she stopped a few paces in and looked around from the window to the bookcases on the opposite wall. Two men had followed her into the room and came up alongside her when she stopped.
"Where is he?" one asked in a gruff voice.
"In here somewhere. The window's locked. There's nowhere to go," she hissed, still speaking to him, he supposed.
I can get past the old woman fine, but those thugs are a different story. He adjusted his crouch, readying himself to sprint. Come on. Move.
The larger of the two men nodded at the desk in front of them. "Check over there."
Nezumi's heart sped up. The man did as he was commanded, and Nezumi held his breath as he waited to see what the other official would do. The large man turned toward the staircase. His eyes roamed their length and then scrutinized the loft. Nezumi swallowed, and his stomach lurched as the official began to mount the stairs. It was torture, but he made himself count to four. If he were too hasty, the official wouldn't be far enough up the stairs and might be capable of snagging him on his way past.
He swung out and bolted just as the old woman began turning. Their eyes met for a split second. She looked so shocked and angry, her glasses flashing and her face all pinched. It really wasn't an attractive parting image. Nezumi silently promised to treasure her always in his memory with that face.
She barely had enough time to utter, "You!" before he blew by her and escaped through the bedroom door. His thoughts were already calculating his next move before he reached the staircase. The front door was impossible, so that left the windows—which he suspected were all locked thanks to the old woman's forethought—and the side door that led out to the garden.
He jumped down the last few steps and pivoted in that direction. The door slid open easily, which he considered a godsend, because he estimated he had about six seconds before the Bureau officials stampeded down the stairs. Given his limited time, he made a deliberate decision to head for the section of hedges behind a row of lilies. Thinking of the old woman's fondness for the flower, he took a small satisfaction in trampling them underfoot.
He cleared the hedges and sprinted across the lawn until he reached the road. But he knew he shouldn't take that path. They were already onto him and they had a car. He crossed over the street and a wildlife bridge onto the next property. He quickly navigated his way from the backyard to the next street over. Thank No. 6 for its residential uniformity. The rest was a straightaway to the Chronos gate. He made a beeline for it.
While he ran, he became increasingly aware of his ID bracelet bouncing against his wrist. He glanced down at it. The ID bracelet. He needed to get rid of it. There was a one hundred percent chance it was transmitting radio waves that the Bureau could use to track his whereabouts. The only issue was he couldn't get anywhere in No. 6 without the damned thing. Then again, he wasn't planning to be in No. 6 much longer. The gate was just ahead. He could see the guard that minded the entrance sitting in the booth. Really, he only needed the ID up until he got out of Chronos.
The guard saw him and scrambled out to meet him.
Either he's really excited to see me, or… His suspicions were confirmed when the man yelled, "Stop!" and threw his arms open wide to try and block his path. If Nezumi weren't expending all his energy trying to escape, he would've sighed. He had to hand it to the Security Bureau; they covered their bases well.
Nezumi slipped the ID bracelet from his wrist and slowed a fraction as he approached the guard. Now that I'm busted, this is almost as good as useless... He waited for the man to make a move toward him, and once he had committed, Nezumi chucked the bracelet at his face. Almost. He smirked as the man doubled over, clutching his gushing nose.
He was now in the Forest Park. As expected at that hour, it was completely deserted apart from the cleaning robots. The surrounding areas may not be the posh and pampered paradise that was Chronos, but they were still a part of No. 6, which meant that the residents there were determined to take it as easy as possible. There was hardly a business that opened before nine, let alone people who chose to take strolls through the park at an hour past dawn. The workers in the Park Administration Office would likely be the only occupants of the park at this hour, and their only job was to stare at screens, drink coffee, and press a button every time the robots sent back an "indistinguishable object" error.
The solitude and quietness had often been a relief to Nezumi on previous mornings. However, this particular morning he would've been much obliged if there was a bustling crowd to get lost in, or at least a few eyewitnesses.
He hazarded a look behind him. There were no officers in sight. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or a bad thing, but he wasn't naïve enough to believe that he had eluded the Bureau. His muscles were starting to tense up. He sucked in a deep breath and kept running. Luckily, No. 6 wasn't a big city, so if he kept a steady pace he would be in Lost Town in ten minutes. If he could make it there and to the sewage tunnel, he would be safe. He hoped.
It had apparently rained during the night. The park smelt sharp and moist, and the ground squelched with every stride he made. Naturally, the Forest Park had pathways, but if recklessly crashing through the slick foliage would shave even the slightest amount of time off his journey, they would be seconds preciously won. He hit a particularly wet patch and slid across the damp grass. He must have been either very bored or very tired, because upon realizing he had narrowly avoided pitching head first into a pond, his first thought was: I'm still in my pajamas. I'm literally running for my life in my pajamas.
He was wearing dark sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, so as far as sleepwear-turned-getaway clothing was concerned it was adequate. Still, the fact that he was ambushed in his home at dawn, where and when, by all accounts, one should feel safe, infuriated him. It was the principle of the thing. No. 6 touted values like community, comfort, and safety, but the reality it enforced wasn't what it advertised. Forget natural human rights, No. 6 was the kind of callous snake that couldn't even allow a citizen the dignity of putting on something decent before they stormed into their house and arrested them.
He didn't realize he had reached Lost Town until he stumbled into the street. He cursed himself. Now was not the time. He could harp on No. 6 later, after he was sure he'd never have to see the glittering generality again. Like the park, Lost Town was silent. If he wasn't mistaken, the entrance to the tunnel was in one of the alleys that flanked the road stretching out in front of him.
He jogged out into the middle of the street, just as a car streaked out. He spun around and put his hands out to try to blunt the blow. Fortunately, cars in No. 6 had superb brakes, so it halted in time to save him from being crushed, but his hands had still hit the hood, and they vibrated with the impact. His hair fanned out in front of his eyes, and when it cleared, he found himself staring into the sunglass-shaded face of a Security Bureau official.
He turned smartly on his heel and sprinted down the road. The car screeched and purred behind him. He could feel it gaining. The closer it got, the more difficult it was to remember which alley the tunnel was down. He had a none too pleasant vision of himself being rammed from behind and rolling over the front of the car, only to land, sprawling, on the pavement in a pool of his own blood. He was sure the Bureau would have a fun time concocting a colorful story about the ill-fated demise of a promising Chronos elite.
Deciding to take his chances in favor of being mowed down, he cut to the right and dove into the first alley he saw. He ran until he saw the brick wall looming in the distance.
No. He checked for fire escapes or footholds, but the surrounding surfaces were smooth and unforgiving. No, no, no, no! He skidded to a stop and slammed his fist against the brick.
"Dammit!"
A leisurely clapping began behind him. The sound bounced off the walls, each reverberation hitting him like a slap in the face.
"Very nice," a smooth voice droned.
He stifled his frustration as best he could and turned to face his pursuers. The alley was only wide enough to fit two men shoulder to shoulder. Despite this, the Bureau had apparently felt the need to cram every man they had in the car into the space. This amounted to four men, three of which were pointing guns his way. Nezumi's mouth was dry. He didn't expect to see guns. What ever happened to No. 6's subscription to peace?
The only official who wasn't sporting a firearm was at the forefront of the pack. He was a broad shouldered man, with a deep forehead and a black buzz cut. He had forsaken the sunglasses that his coworkers seemed so fond of, and as such, his face seemed softer and more open than his companions'. However, his dark eyes and thin mouth screamed of deceit.
"Honestly, I'm impressed," the man continued. He ceased clapping and smiled wanly at Nezumi. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Citizen Takashi. My name is Rashi. I've come to inform you that you have been promoted." Rashi pronounced each word slowly, as if he were picking them with the utmost care.
Nezumi took pause. They don't seem to know about the drives… If they did, they wouldn't bother with such petty foreplay. So, what? Is it about the pledge after all?
"You chased me halfway across the city to tell me I got a promotion? Compliments of Sasori, I suppose?" he fished.
"Ah, yes. We did receive a call from him yesterday. However, this promotion has been pending for a while now."
What's that supposed to mean?
Nezumi's eyes wandered from one man to the next. "Must be a really important job. This is quite the welcoming committee."
"Well, I know you have a penchant for the dramatic. I thought you might appreciate the fanfare."
Nezumi chuckled wryly. "How thoughtful of you. However, as much as I appreciate your originality with the guns, I would have been just as delighted with the standard balloons and party poppers."
Rashi smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What do you say we continue this conversation in the car?"
Apparently this was some kind of signal, because the man behind Rashi stepped forward and whipped out a pair of handcuffs. He kept his gun trained on Nezumi as he approached. Nezumi swallowed, his back pressed against the brick wall. He tensed when the official snatched his wrist, but the gun prevented him from retaliating, and his sense of dignity kept him from making any further show of apprehension. He winced as the handcuffs locked around his wrists with a bright chink.
"Bit tight," he said to his handler. The man was impassive. He gripped him by the back of the neck and pushed him stumbling forward. Nezumi grunted as he was muscled out of the alley and to the idling car. One official opened the door, and another ducked Nezumi's head and pushed him inside.
"Geez," Nezumi growled as he was sandwiched between two of his captors. "If this is a promotion, I'd hate to see what a demotion looks like."
Rashi watched without interest from the passenger's seat. The car pulled out, and the scenery outside began to blend.
Nezumi turned to the man beside him. "So, do you usually bring this many men, or am I just special?"
"I suppose you could say that," Rashi drawled.
"Excuse me. I was talking to Sunglasses here." Sunglasses, however, didn't answer. "Can the others not speak?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Rashi twisted around in his seat. "But it won't happen. They've been instructed not to encourage you."
"Oh? So my reputation precedes me. I'm flattered that you've bothered to do your research."
"Mm. Yes, I know quite a bit about you, CVC-00103221. But seeing as you insist on making a spectacle of yourself wherever you go, I don't think there's anyone in the city who hasn't heard of you in one way or another."
Nezumi smirked. "You're making me blush, old man. If I knew you were such a big fan, I would've prepared an autograph."
"You see? There's that brazen egotism. If you're not disrespecting authority, or mocking the city pledge, you're out in the park, masquerading with grocers."
The sarcastic retort died in Nezumi's throat.
"Tell me, did you think your impertinence would go unpunished? Did you think just because we let you get away with acting like a spoiled brat, that you were invincible?" Rashi's mouth twitched. "You know, you've always thought yourself pretty special, but I don't think you realized just how special."
Nezumi glowered. "I must admit, I really don't know where you're going with this."
"Yes. You never were very smart. To tell you the truth, I was against the decision to waive you into the Gifted Curriculum, but the management insisted. They thought higher education and a greater standard of living would produce a more favorable subject. But it seems to have done nothing more than give you an inflated sense of your own self-worth. You've proved to be a colossal waste of time and funds. If you ask me, I think they should've let you die with your parents."
Nezumi stiffened. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.
"Oh, dear… I forgot. You didn't know that, did you?" Rashi looked genuinely pleased. "It was a pity. Your father was a clever and useful man, and your mother…" He smirked. "Well, she was no real beauty, but she'd do in a pinch."
Nezumi jerked against his restraints, but was quickly pushed down by the other officers. Rashi chuckled.
"Their execution was unfortunate, but what could we do? The higher ups just had to have you, and your parents kept refusing their offers. You should actually be thankful someone saw so much value in you; it saved your life."
"You bastard!"
He lunged at Rashi again. This time when the guards yanked him back down into the seat one elbowed him roughly in the sternum. He sputtered and coughed.
"Now, now," Rashi chided. "Be gentle, boys. We don't want to damage the merchandise before it's properly delivered. Although…" he said as an afterthought. "Perhaps, it wouldn't be such a bad idea to break you in before we turn you over. Elyurias only needs the brain, after all."
Elyurias? Brain? What is this guy talking about?
The car jolted. He glanced out the windshield and realized he had no idea where they were. The car was heading down a dirt road cutting through a forest of towering trees. This was nowhere near the Bureau. The Bureau abutted City Hall, nestled in the center of the Forest Park, with all its managed greenery and manicured lawns. The woods outside the car windows were natural and gnarled. Their lack of maintenance told him that No. 6 didn't deem it necessary to pay such fastidious attention to this path, which meant it wasn't a place normal citizens were expected to see. If he had to guess, he would say they were heading toward the northwest sector of the city. But there wasn't much up there. Nothing but the Correctional Facility.
Nezumi blanched. The fists he had balled in his lap were beginning to slicken with sweat. His visceral reaction to his surroundings did not go unnoticed.
"Catching on, are we? If you've figured out where we're going, you must also realize that all the snide comments in the world can't shield you from what's coming. You thought the years with Fumiko were bad?" Rashi smiled, his eyes crinkling just the slightest in the corners. "Wait till he gets his hands on you."
Dammit! His heart was pounding and his chest ached from the blow he had sustained. He grit his teeth and tried to bite back the bile of hatred that was clawing its way up his throat. Think, you idiot!
A large black shape hurtled at the windshield.
"What the—!"
The driver slammed on the brakes. The car's passengers were thrown violently forward and then slammed back against their seats. A crow swooped down in a determined arc and ran its talons over the hood of the car. Its shrill caws mingled with the keening squeal of its nails dragging over the metal. The bird flew at the window again, pecking angrily.
Rashi sneered. "Ignore it. Keep driving."
The driver released the brake and rolled forward.
And then the side of the road erupted. Nezumi smashed into the man next to him as an eardrum-shattering boom rippled through the air and blew the car clear off the road. Nezumi instinctively threw his hands up to cover his head and face, but he was too tightly boxed in to bring them up all the way. The car lurched in midair and came crashing down on its side before flipping completely over. Halfway through the roll, Nezumi's head collided with something hard.
The next moment, everything went black.