A/N: Sorry for the general lack of Athena in the fic so far. This first part got longer than expected. She'll be back in the plot soon, I promise - and not just in flashbacks.
Also, a big thanks to yrina918 for proofreading all the previously published chapters of both this fic and Turnabout to the Past. I'm sorry I didn't edit the chapters yet, I've been incredibly busy lately. I promise I'll do that soon!
"So you don't think this prosecutor is onto us."
The Phantom – Harrison – nods, leaning back on the seat Dr. Dote offered him when he walked into her office. "I do not think so. He had some suspicions, obviously, as the Interpol must have told him what Doff was involved with – but nothing more. He asked about Doff's work, and I told him nothing but what we agreed I would say. He seemed to be especially interested in the fact Doff worked with other companies as well. He has no reason to suspect YggdraCorp any more than any of them," he says. He pauses for a moment, then he shrugs. "Truth to be told, I expected him to have more bite. He was surprisingly tame for someone with his reputation," he adds.
It's a lie, of course, but it's one he wants the CEO to believe. This company doesn't shy away from high profile murders; the less of a threat they think Blackquill is, the safer he will be.
And believe him she does, to his relief. "That's good to know: one less problem to worry about. The Interpol agent was all the world like a rabid dog; it was plain he believes YggdraCorp is involved, and the fact he cannot prove it almost made him froth at the mouth," she says with an amused chuckle. "A nuisance, but so far they have nothing. And if the prosecutor's attention has indeed turned to other companies, we have nothing to worry about. So far the biggest threat seems to come from whoever managed to infiltrate the facility in Reijam – but we already have someone to take care of that."
The spy, the Phantom thinks, one they hired to keep an eye on the situation and spot anyone who may try to infiltrate YggdraCorp. A spy to catch a spy; an interesting concept, except that they're too late and they're already in. If they only knew. "When will he be here?" he asks.
"Tomorrow morning. You'll be the one to show him around. Tell him how everything works and give him all details about any employee he asks about. If he asks for anything you're unable to provide, contact me and I'll take care of it."
Harrison nods. "Very well," he says, but the Phantom lets some doubt in his voice. He knows that Harrison doesn't quite like the idea, nor he trusts this man the CEO decided to hire. Not that it's surprising, really.
No one in their right mind would ever trust a spy.
"So you don't think the chief of staff is involved."
Blackquill hums and bites a little harder on the feather hanging from his lips. "I wouldn't rule it out entirely," he finally says, leaning back on the car's seat. It's plain as day that Lang is frustrated: his unwillingness to talk about the details of his meeting with the CEO shows clearly that nothing relevant came up through it – and certainly nothing that could prove YggdraCorp's involved with the illegal activities the Interpol has been investigating. Still, it's not like Blackquill can lie about his own meeting with Mr. Fire solely to assuage Lang's frustration. "I'm saying his shock when I told him what Mr. Doff was involved with seemed genuine."
Predictably enough, that does nothing to lessen Lang's scowl. "It may have been an act."
"Obviously. But I'm rather sure I would have been able to tell if he was acting. I'm not so easily fooled."
Lang snorts. "Your Phantom could fool you," he says, causing Blackquill to stiffen.
"LaRoche was one of a kind," he says, glaring pointedly at Lang. "And he's gone. I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring him up again. It's your phantom we're after here, isn't it, Lang-dono?"
Blackquill half-expects Lang's temper to explode, but instead he seems to realize he overstepped. He stares at him for one more moment before bowing his head slightly. "... I apologize. I meant no disrespect," he says. "Shih-na was able to fool me just as well, and for more than one year. What I mean is that deception may not be easily detectable. Such is the nature of deception, isn't it? Lang Zi says: even the best tracker can be lost when snow covers the trail."
Blackquill nods. "Fair enough," he says. "I cannot know for a fact the man was not lying. My opinion, however, is that he wasn't feigning his shock when he received the news."
"Perhaps he was shocked to realize we know what is going on," Lang says, but he doesn't sound convinced.
"Hmph. That seems hardly a possibility. If the man was involved, then he wouldn't be surprised at all. The Interpol is involved, you found the facility in Reijam and you were speaking to the CEO about it; it wouldn't take much to realize we must have more than a gut feeling to go by."
Lang sighs. "True enough," he says, looking out of the car's window. "Do you think it's possible the company was never involved to begin with?"
"I wouldn't rule it out. Even though his work with YggdraCorp was his primary occupation, the late Stan Doff worked as a researcher for other smaller companies. Besides, he may have had ties we're unaware of with who the hell knows what people. He was without a doubt involved with the human experiments going on in Reijam, but who else was involved with him is a whole other question we need to answer to."
There are a few moments of silence before Lang nods. "Lang Zi says: the truth lies not at the exit, but rather, shines outside the maze itself. I trust your judgment when it comes to the company's chief of staff, Prosecutor Blackquill. I truly do."
"But you still think the company itself is involved," Blackquill states.
"I suspect as much, yes. Oh, the CEO was so very willing to cooperate and let us know how her company knows nothing of the case we're looking into," Lang says with a scoff. "So much talking and so little substance. Dr. Dote is very good with words, I'll give her that. But so was one of the sneakiest bastards I ever had to deal with, and he was guilty as sin. When the prey leaves no trail, a wolf trusts its instincts. The company may be involved in this sordid story even if its chief of staff is unaware of it."
"That's a possibility," Blackquill concedes. "Either way, I'd look into Stan Doff's other connections as well. I'm certain you have enough men to do just that; there is no point in overlooking the possibility someone else other than YggdraCorp was involved."
Lang gives a brief laugh. "Fair enough. Very well, I suppose I can spare a few men," he says, reaching into his pocket for, Blackquill assumes, his cellphone. "I assume you'll want to-" he adds, only to suddenly trail off and frown in mild confusion. The reason of his confusion becomes evident when he pulls his hand out of his pocket: he's holding something, alright... but it's not a cellphone.
It's a folded piece of paper.
Blackquill watches as Lang unfolds it. He can see something is written in uppercase on it, but he can't make out the words before Lang lifts it to read it. For a moment the confused scowl stays there, then it turns into a somewhat feral smirk.
"Well, well. It seems my instinct was right, after all. Someone decided to deliver me a message during the visit," he says, handing out the piece of paper so that Blackquill he can read what's written on it as well. It's a brief message, straight to the point... and, if it was indeed placed in Lang's pocket while inside YggdraCorp, a rather strong hint that the company is indeed involved with something less than legal.
Be careful, idiot. They'll kill you if they have to.
"So you don't think Blackquill recognized you."
"I know he didn't. Do you think we'd both be alive if he had?" the Phantom says dryly, causing the Yatagarasu to smirk. She leans back against a wall, holding her watch up to her lips so that she can keep her voice low and still be heard.
"Fair point. Who would have killed who, I wonder?" she muses, but she only means to tease. While it's very likely Simon Blackquill would have hacked the Phantom into pieces where he stood if he recognized him, she knows without the shadow of a doubt that the Phantom wouldn't have tried to murder him in return.
"No point in wondering. It didn't happen," is the flat reply.
She has the distinct feeling he's keeping something from her, but it doesn't quite bother her. She's not telling him about the message she slipped in Lang's pocket, after all. It's just an innocent warning and Lang won't know it was her – it's not like he knows she's involved – but she knows the Phantom wouldn't like that at all.
"Hahahaha! Why so serious, then? Do lighten up! Everything is fine, then. Well, as long as he and Lang don't get themselves in trouble with YggdraCorp."
"Hmph. They should hope they don't, then."
"What if they do?"
"What?"
"You heard me. What do we do if those two idiots get themselves in danger?" the Yatagarasu asks.
"We're not supposed to do anything. We're here to gather information and find out what this company has been testing. Our assignment has nothing to do with their fates should they cross YggdraCorp."
"Uh-uh, yes, sure. The bigwigs would be so proud of that answer they'd give you a cookie. Really now, what would be the plan?"
The Phantom sighs. "We try to keep them out of it by any means necessary. As long as it doesn't blow our cover," he adds, causing her to laugh.
"You know, that last part sounded almost convincing," is all she says before ending the call, a small smile playing on her lips. The Phantom's denial over the lengths he'd go to in order to keep Simon Blackquill from dying is amusing, especially since she knows very well that he tried to save him from execution back when he still stood accused of murder.
But it's good to know it: I means that, should it come to choose between their assignment and the lives of Lang and Blackquill, the Phantom won't hesitate to follow her lead – the hell with the assignment.
She was forced to murder someone she genuinely liked once already; it will not happen again. She may die to keep that for happening, but it matters not: death would be the ultimate thrill, and if she can make sure Lang won't be following her in the underworld she'll die with a laugh on her lips.
Leaving the orphanage was even easier than Robb expected.
As in, he knew that actually leaving it wouldn't be a problem: they all left all the time anyway, so it was just a matter of not going back for the night. Getting their stuff in the abandoned house – especially Seymour's, really, because he has his books and some other stuff and Robb's gift while Robb only has some extra clothes and the slingshot he wanted to take with him – was a bit trickier, but it was nothing they couldn't do easily enough over a week or so, taking with them a few things at time.
No one had noticed, and they had even manage to take an old mattress and a few blankets there, so it was kinda cozy. Robb also stole a lot of candy so that they could celebrate their first night on their own properly. And they did celebrate... until the thunderstorm started, of course
It's not that bad. Of course, the thunders are very loud and sound so very close and the rain is pouring down, but they're inside a house and the roof isn't leaking or anything, so it's okay. They also have a candle to give some light, so yeah, it's not bad at all. Except that Seymour is hiding under a blanket like a big baby.
"Oh, come on," Robb mutters, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. "Don't be a big baby. It's just a thunderstorm. Don't tell me you're afraid of thunders!" he adds. He knows that Seymour doesn't like thunderstorms at all, but he was never reallyscared of them – not back in the orphanage, at least. Maybe the unfamiliar setting isn't helping, but it still seems a very stupid thing to be afraid of.
He is not afraid, after all. Nuh-uh. Not in the slightest.
Seymour scowls at him, the blanket still wrapped tightly around him. "I'm not afraid! I'm just-" he begins, only to trail off when there is another crack of thunder and the candle seems to nearly go out. The house creaks around them, causing Seymour to wince, but Robb is still not afraid. He's just going to sleep through it, he thinks, and shifts a tad closer to Seymour on the mattress they're sharing – because he's not scared at all, of course, but Seymour is and he may want him to stay close and also they can keep warm this way.
Seymour glances at him and Robb is about to open his mouth to point out that he's not afraid, but then there is another thunder, strong enough to make the window's glass tremble, and the candle goes out. Half a moment later they're both under the covers, clinging to each other so closely that Robb can feel Seymour's heart beating wildly against him.
And his own heart isn't taking it easy, either.
"... Still not afraid," he mutters through a mouthful of Seymour's hair.
"We're keeping warm," Seymour says against his throat, his voice not really firm.
Robb can definitely get behind that reason. "Oh. Sure. It would suck to get a cold on our first night as free men, huh?" he says. There is some more shifting as they snuggle closer and Seymour keeps his head tucked under Robb's chin, but it's not that bad. It's warmer, and if he focuses on their heartbeat slowing down little by little Robb can even shut out the noises of the old creaking house and the thunderstorm raging outside.
Until Seymour speaks again, that's it.
"... Do you remember what they were like? The bombings, I mean."
"Huh?" Pulled back from something close to a slumber, Robb needs a few moments to make sense out of what Seymour just said. He frowns a little in thought. "Yes. No. A little," he says. He remembers the noise, sure enough – the roar of engines followed by an explosion like crack of thunder – but little else. He wasn't yet four years old when the war happened, and the few memories he has of then are very fuzzy. "The noise. I remember the noise. Just like thunder. What about you?" he asks. It occurs to him that, while the war with Cohdopia is a subject that came up pretty often while talking to other orphans – how could it not? It's what caused them to become orphans to begin with – Seymour didn't bring it up even once before.
"Same thing, really," Seymour says, still pressed close to him. "I... I remember the one my parents died in. I think that was it. I was with my grandmother when it happened. That's why I didn't die as well, but I thought I would. It was so loud, and all lights went out. I thought we'd die. I think I cried, but grandma kept telling me we'd be fine and I believed her," he says, and he suddenly sounds sad. Robb wonders if it's for the grandmother who raised in on her own until she died as well a few years later, or for his parents... parents he probably doesn't remember much better than Robb remembers his own.
He remembers some things, really – someone laughing, being picked up, a hand ruffling his hair. If he focuses hard enough he can dig up the vague memory of a man with blonde hair, smiling sheepishly while he tried to explain something Robb couldn't comprehend to a woman who stared at him with pale blue eyes just like his own, her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face that threatened to turn into an amused smile any moment as the man spoke.
Do you truly expect me to believe Robert did it?
Yes. Him, or ghosts. Just don't blame me.
God, I married an overgrown child. What am I supposed to do with you?
How about you give me a kiss? Robbie thinks you should give us both a kiss. Isn't that right, champion? See, he agrees. Can't say no to that face, can you?
And that's it, that's the most complete memory he can pull out of his mind. All he remembers after that but before the orphanage is the the deafening noise of explosions all around, the sensation of being picked up and carried away, someone's heart beating quickly against his cheek and panting breath above him.
His father, most likely: he was told that his mother was found beneath the ruins of their house, but his father had picked him up and managed to get him to a shelter before his wounds killed him. He remembers nothing else, nothing of what he may have done or said as he carried him to safety... and maybe it's for the best. Remembering that would probably make him sad, and he doesn't like being sad. He rarely is, and he'd rather keep it that way. Still...
"Do your remember your mom and dad at all?" Robb asks quietly.
Face still pressed against his shoulder, Seymour shakes his head slightly. "No. Not much anyway. I remember my grandmother best," he says, his voice trembling a bit. Robb wonders if he should ask what she was like, but he decides not to. Seymour sounds sad enough as it is.
"... Birdbrain?" he calls out quietly after a brief silence.
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you had the guts to come with me," Robb says, and grins a little even though Seymour can't see it.
Seymour chuckles against his neck. "The orphanage would have been deadly boring without you around," he says, then, "we'll be alright, won't we?"
"Yup," Robb says, shifting to get a bit more comfortable and resting his chin on top of Seymour's head. "And tell you what – we're going to have a lot of fun."
And you won't have to be sad ever again, he wants to add, but he doesn't because he wouldn't be caught dead saying something so horribly sappy, so in the ends he says nothing else.
"I called for you. You didn't come back. Why did you let me die?"
This isn't what Seymour's voice sounded like in life, the Phantom thinks as he burrows his face in his hands. The voice he's hearing now – the voice he's imagining, because no one is truly speaking and this is yet another hallucination – is hoarse, the voice of someone who screamed and screamed until their throat hurt.
No! Please, no! I don't want to die! Help me! Help!
Robb! Please, come back! Help me, don't leave me here! Robb! NO! Please, don't! Robert! ROB-
"I trusted you," the voice reaches him again, barely more than a whisper. The Phantom shuts his eyes tighter, refusing to lift his face from his hands. He can hear, as though from a mile away, rain drumming against the window and the distant sound of thunder.
Don't be a big baby. It's just a thunderstorm. Don't tell me you're afraid of thunders!
"You're not here," he finally says, willing his voice to stay flat and his heart and breathing to slow into a steady rhythm. "No one is here. You're dead," he adds. It's ridiculous and utterly illogical that he's actually speaking to a room he knows is empty – but somehow it's better than listening to the thunders outside.
"You killed me."
"They shot you."
"You brought me there."
"The catwalk broke. I couldn't know it would happen. It was an accident."
"You ran away. You forgot me. I trusted you."
We can take on the world, birdbrain. Trust me.
Promise me that when the moment comes you'll stand there as a man, and die as one.
A bitter laugh leaves the Phantom, who's still refusing to open his eyes and look up. "You shouldn't have. No one should have," he says, and waits for a reply. None comes: the hallucination is over.
The Phantom breathes in and out for a few moments before he finally pulls his hands away from his face and opens his eyes. The bedroom is faintly lit by a street light outside – Harrison Fire often forgets to close the curtains – but it's enough to tell that no one is sitting at the foot of the bed, least than all a long-dead boy with a bleeding hole in his head.
Of course, he was never there to begin with: it was all in his head. As it turns out, the dream suppressant's after effects are lingering even though he took none tonight. This isn't good: it leaves him with both undesired dreams and hallucinations he cannot seem to control. He knows that they could be his undoing if he lets anything show in the wrong moment. Perfect, he thinks. Just perfect.
The Phantom shuts his eyes and reaches to press a hand on his forehead. The bullet scar is still there, although far less noticeable than before plastic surgery, and as his head throbs he could swear it's the old wound that's hurting. A wound that should have killed him. It did, in a way – but everything that was taken from him with that one bullet found its way back to him eventually. Seymour was denied that chance.
Robert LaRoche is dead to the world now, again, and the phantom that's left of him is now dealing with a phantom of his own. It's worse than dreaming of Blackquill, because at least Blackquill is alive and well, and moving on with his life.
For now.
The Phantom clenches his jaw, trying to chase away the thought. The investigation he's involved with may become dangerous, sure enough, but at the moment he doesn't seem to be in any danger... and the Phantom will step in if he has any reason to believe he might be. If Blackquill puts himself in danger, he can still try to shield him – try to save him, no matter the cost. He's in the right position to do so.
But he could do nothing for Seymour. He is gone, beyond help: he died begging for his life and knowing that his best friend had left him behind to save his hide. I should have died with him, he thinks tiredly.
Why did you let me die?
I was afraid. I was a coward. I ran away as I always did and as I always would.
But he cannot run away from his own mind, nor from the memories he so wished to retrieve when he had none. He doesn't regret getting them back; he doesn't regret having a self. But now he wishes he could forget again for a time, or at least for his dreams and the hallucinations to stop, for the dead to stay dead.
The dead is dead. Dead and gone. It's all in your head, and there is no escape.
The Phantom lets out a bitter laugh. "I should have never come back here," he says to the empty room, if anything hear the sound of his voice – anything but the sound of rain and thunders coming from outside. Thinking that helps, somewhat: since the dreams got worse since when he's come back to Los Angeles, he can hope they will fade along with the hallucinations as soon as he leaves again for some other assignment.
He doesn't allow himself even for one moment to think he may have to spend the rest of his life with Seymour Blaxton's voice whispering to him from beyond the grave, no matter where he goes.
Kurain Village, June 2028
"Okay, I'm ready to go... well, whenever you're ready."
Athena is not sure she's ready – she's not sure anyone can ever be ready for some things – but that doesn't stop her from giving Maya a bright smile and flash her a victory sign. "Cyked up and ready to go! We can start any time. Right?" she adds while glancing beside her, where Simon in kneeling.
He doesn't reply at first, his gaze somewhat unfocused, then he slowly nods. "You can proceed, Fey-dono," he says. It's hard to see his expression clearly, as the Channeling Chamber is only lit by candles give the whole place a faint sort of glow, but Athena can feel just fine the spike of fear in his heart. She can understand that, because she's a bit scared herself: she hasn't seen her mother in such a long time, and so much happened meanwhile, and... well, it doesn't really happen every day to see your deceased mother.
The thought of Apollo's smile when he walked out of the Chamber only ten minutes ago helps somewhat, though. He was very doubtful about channeling as a whole, really, but he had believed what Mr. Wright said, as she had. And it had worked, he told her – he was able to see Clay Terran again, to speak to him. The happiness in his heart had been loud and clear, impossible to miss.
And now... now it's their turn. Athena reaches to put a hand over Simon's and turns back to Maya. "Well, you heard him. Let's get started!" she says, and Maya smiles. It's a bright smile, not the kind you'd expect from a spirit medium before a channeling, but it's so Maya and Athena couldn't picture her acting any differently.
"That's the spirit," she says cheekily before she lowers gaze to stare down at the picture in her hands – a picture of Athena's mother, the one Aura used to keep in her office. She stares down at it for a few more moments, then she shuts her eyes and her head drops as though she's abruptly fallen asleep, long black hair sliding down to cover her face.
For several moments nothing happens, and Athena feels a pang of worry when she realizes her heartbeat is slowing now all of a sudden. For a moment she almost forgets what she was told – just wait and don't interrupt – and reaches out to shake her, just to make sure she's fine, but before she can move Maya shudders just once before she slowly raises her head to face her and Simon.
Only that it's not Maya Fey anymore. Her hair is down rather than tied up as it was in life, but there is no mistaking her face. The woman kneeling before them in a spirit medium's attire, staring down at her hands as though she's trying to make sense out of what she's seeing, is without a shadow of doubt Metis Cykes.
Simon's heart seems to jump in his chest, but Athena barely notices, because now her own heart feels like it's moved up to her throat. She's prepared for this day, she's thought of everything she always wished she could tell her mother, everything she didn't get to tell her either because she was too young to understand her or because she simply didn't have the time. She had nothing short of a speech prepared, waiting to rush out of her heart and through her mouth like a flood breaking down a dam.
But now that she is there before her, she can't say anything at all. It's as though her heart is really in her throat now, jamming it shut and keeping the words in. For a few moments, she doesn't even breathe.
Mom!
"Eek!" Athena recoils when Widget breaks the silence with its shrill cry, and so does her mother – without yelping, though. She tears her eyes off her hands and she finally, finally seems to see them. She looks surprised for a moment, which is not an emotion Athena can remember her showing very often, then the surprise fades and her lips curl in a half-smile.
"... Hello, Widget," she says, and her voice is everything like Athena remembers. Then her gaze shifts upwards, to her and Simon, and only now Athena realizes that even though he's still and silent as a statue his heart is crying out in a whirlwind of emotions. He's still afraid, in some measure, but his surprise is greater – as is his happiness, growing slowly but surely as the realization that this is truly happening sinks in.
As for her, for once she has no idea what she's feeling.
"Athena. Simon," her mother speaks up again, and her smile seems to widen just a fraction. "This is happening fair bit sooner than I was expecting. I thought I would have to wait for the two of you to die to speak to you again. I looked forward to it," she says, then pauses and frowns slightly. "... Well. In a way. I was glad when it turned out you wouldn't have to join me so soon, Simon."
"You... know what has happened since...?" Simon finally speaks, his voice hoarse like an unused instrument.
Metis Cykes nods. "I couldn't be there as much as I would have liked. There are... limits to what we can see, to the extent of time the deceased can be there. But I know what you did for Athena. I am forever in your debt," she says, and turns to Athena – whose sight is starting to get really, really blurry.
"Mom..." she starts, but her mother silences her with a sharp gesture.
"No. Listen first," she says, and Athena suddenly feels like she's ten years old again. "I have also seen what you have done for Simon. All the work you put into helping him. All the responsibility you shouldered despite your trauma. I have watched you grow into the woman you are today, and if there is someone who should speak now it's me. I failed to do so when it mattered, but I hope it will matter now as well. I hope it's not too late for me to say I'm proud of you. You – the two of you..." she pauses for a moment, as though trying to come up with the right words. "... I took such pride in my work. I still do, truly, but what is and will always be my greatest accomplishment is you."
Athena blinks to clear her sight, and tears finally slide down her face – still, she smiles and reaches up to wipe them. "I... I've wanted to hear that for so long," she chokes out. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I didn't understand before. I just couldn't tell you loved me, and I... you tried so hard and you wanted the best for me and I just kept complaining about the headphones, or your work, or for not getting out enough and... and...!"
There is more she wants to say, more she needs to say, but before she can even try her mother is reaching out for her – for her and Simon both – and the next moment they're both being pulled close. Simon doesn't try to resist and neither she does, because her mother never hugged her like this before and she never realized until just not how much she's needed it. They need to talk more, and they will, but for now all she wants to do is hold her mother back and press her face against her shoulder and weep tears of joy.
She's not surprised to realize that Simon is weeping, too, as he hasn't allowed himself to for a long time.
And that's alright, she thinks, they'll both be alright. They just needed this.
The spy Dr. Dote hired turns out to be a tall, lanky man who looks perhaps in his mid-fifties, with slicked-back black hair barely streaked with grey, olive skin and dark eyes. He stands when Harrison walks into the CEO's office, and walks up at him with a polite smile.
"Ah, so you must be my guide for today," he greets him, holding out his hand. Although Harrison knows he's not American, the Phantom can detect no accent at all that says otherwise. He's good, he must give him that. "I go by Ulysses Outis. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fire."
Harrison returns both the handshake and the smile. "I looked forward to meeting you, Mr. Outis," he says. "As I'm certain Dr. Dote has informed you, we're in a rather sticky situation."
Outis chuckles. "I can see that. The trouble you had back in Reijam was bad enough without the Interpol poking around – oh, and the local police, too. Was Prosecutor Simon Blackquill truly involved? That's... quite interesting, I must say."
So this one knows about Blackquill, the Phantom thinks. Then again, it's hardly a surprise: he's widely known as the prosecutor who brought down the Phantom. "He has quite the reputation, yes," he concedes. "However, I don't think he'll be a problem. He's looking into a murder he cannot link to this company."
"The Interpol won't be a problem, either," Dr. Dote points out, still sitting behind her desk. "They have nothing; we were able to handle them well enough yesterday, and we're ready to do so again. You won't need to concern yourself about this, Mr. Outis. All you need to do is look out for any spies that may try to infiltrate the company as they did in the facility in Reijam."
"Or who may have already infiltrated the company," Outis says flippantly, and smiles at the surprised look he gets from the CEO. "Hadn't you considered it? The spies we're dealing with seem rather competent, and may have been fast to act. That's actually very likely if one of them is indeed who I think it might be."
What...?
The statement causes both Harrison and Dr. Dote to stare at him in surprise. It's not a surprise the Phantom needs to fake, and it seems to amuse Outis. "I suppose I neglected to mention it before; my bad. I actually believe I have a rather good guess on the identity of at least one of them."
"You do? But how? Who is it?" Dr. Dote asks immediately, leaning forward on her desk.
All questions the Phantom is asking himself as well – how can he know? He's certain he wasn't careless enough to leave anything behind, and neither was the Yatagarasu... or so he assumes. Does this Outis really know, or is he mistaken? He may be mistaken, after all. Or perhaps he's bluffing, but that would be even more worrying: you only have a reason to bluff in front of people you suspect, after all... and there is no one else in the room aside from the CEO and Harrison Fire.
Outis gives the CEO another pleasant smile. "I hope you don't mind if I keep that for myself at the moment. I know who it may be, but not much else. As for how," he adds with a laugh, "I'm rather tempted to say I cannot reveal my tricks, but then again I'm no magician – just a humble spy. Let's just say one of them let something slip back in Reijam. I'm rather sure she never meant to give her partner's identity or lack thereof away, but she was a bit too flippant with her choice of words and gave me just the clue I needed. It happens to the best of us, wouldn't you say?"
Harrison raises an eyebrow. "That sounds rather convenient," he says.
I'm going to kill her, the Phantom thinks.
Outis tilts his head on one side. "Do you believe she may have tried to mislead us?" he asks. He doesn't sound condescending: he truly seems to be taking the idea in consideration... but it may just as well be an act.
Harrison shrugs. "Not quite. I don't know enough to truly make a hypothesis, after all. It does seem odd, though, that a spy would let such vital information simply slip off her tongue."
She would. Damn her and her big mouth, she would.
Outis hums. "Well, truth to be told, she didn't let important information slip out. Or at least, nothing that would be important to most people. She couldn't imagine that what she said would be heard by me. As it happens, I have crossed paths with her partner before. If my guess is correct, that's it."
That was just about the last thing the Phantom expected to hear. Has he ever met this man before? The name is unfamiliar, but of course it's not his real one, and therefore it's irrelevant. His face and voice don't bring back anything, either, but the Phantom knows very well that means nothing: he's far from the only spy who can change his face and voice, after all.
If this man is indeed correct and they have met, he may have looked and sounded entirely different.
Maybe he's mistaken, the Phantom thinks; maybe he thinks he's after some other spy. But then, why would he find the fact Blackquill is on the case that interesting?
"If it's indeed who I think it is, he's not quite as good as he used to be. He was broken, so to speak, and I know from experience that no matter how well something broken is put back together – the cracks will show, and it will break again under pressure. I might know just what to do to put him under the right kind of pressure," Outis is saying now, looking away from him and at the CEO.
The Phantom doesn't like the sound of it. He doesn't like it at all. He can't ignore the fact that he might be very well referring to him, of how he was exposed before everyone and, quite literally, broke. This man may truly know the Phantom is involved... but again, who in the world is he? When and how may have they met?
"... But even if it's not him, you don't need to worry. If anyone has infiltrated this company or will try to, I'll know it before long," Outis is saying, then he turns back to Harrison with a smile. "Now, I suppose it's time for you to be my guide. Any chance we may stop by a coffee machine? I had some business to attend to last night, and I got less sleep than I should have."
Harrison nods. "Of course. I could use some coffee myself this morning, actually. I'll lead the way," he replies, wondering how is this man precisely planning to put him – as said – under pressure.
He has the unpleasant sensation he'll find out sooner than he'd like.
While he knows his ring tone of choice isn't precisely what most people would expect to hear in a court of law, Blackquill can't bring himself to care; when you've had to live seven years knowing that most people consider you a murderer, people's opinions on such trivial details have no importance whatsoever. Actually, he's come to find people's reactions to it quite amusing to watch.
Still, when Steel Samurai theme rings out this time he's not amused at all. He's hardly amused by sudden loud noises when he's trying to focus, especially after a sleepless night looking into everything he could about YggdraCorp – most information having been supplied by the Interpol.
Lang had seemed almost frantic after he found the message in his pocket, and for a good reason.
"It was her, it must have been her! Who else could it be?" he had repeated several times, and no one had needed him to make any names to know precisely who he was referring to – the woman he had last known as Shih-na. "We know she'd involved! Her DNA was in Reijam, and now this! She's in there somewhere, and I'll hunt her down if it's the last thing I do. Turn this car back! Turn back, I said!"
It had taken Blackquill quite some effort to keep him from storming back to YggraCorp's headquarters, but in the end Lang had realized it would be a foolish move: they couldn't just rush back there like a pack of rabid dogs and hold everyone in for questioning with nothing but a note in their possession and no real proof on who had even written it.
It was clear, however, that they needed to find out more... and, as a result, Blackquill has spent the whole night in his office reading through all they had while Lang used each and every of his sources and contacts to find out every small detail about the company that may have escaped them previously.
And, while Blackquill isn't new to sleepless nights, he cannot say he appreciates fruitless ones. Being snapped out of focus by his cellphone does nothing to improve his mood.
He reaches for his phone, half-expecting it to be Lang, and blinks when he notices that the caller's number is not showing. With a slight frown, he takes the call and brings the cellphone to his ear.
"Blackquill speaking."
"Prosecutor Blackquill," a man's voice greets him from the other side of the line. It's not a voice Blackquill recognizes. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything important. I know you're a very busy man. Looking into Stan Doff's murder, I assume?"
Blackquill frowns. "Who is this?" he demands to know.
The man gives a small, pleasant laugh. "I hope you'll forgive me for not answering. That is not important."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"Ah, but you're no judge, are you? You're a prosecutor. One who could use a tip, I believe. Wouldn't you like to know where you should start looking for answers?"
Blackquill's scowl deepens, and he bites down harder on the feather between his teeth. "If you have information on the murder, show yourself and speak to me face to face – so that I may cut your tongue off if you spew any lies," he says.
Far from intimidated, the man laughs again. "Why, I think I can see why he found you so interesting. Pity it was also his downfall. That's something I can't quite forgive you for, I'm afraid."
He? "What in the blazes are you prattling about?"
The laugh dies down, and the man speaks again. "You seek the truth, don't you, Prosecutor Blackquill? That's what prosecutors do. People like me are meant to conceal it; whether for the better or the worse... well, that's in the eye of the beholder. But I want to help you this one time, Simon Blackquill – even though you ruined my finest work. I can tell you where to start looking for the truth."
Blackquill snorts. "If you have something meaningful to say, get on with it alrea-"
"The grave."
It takes a moment for Blackquill to process what he just heard. Whatever he was expecting the man to utter, it wasn't this. "What...?"
"Some things exist beyond the grave. That's what phantoms are all about, isn't it?" the man continues. "If you want the truth, Blackquill, there is a grave you need to check. You know whose."
And that's it, that's all the man says: the next moment there is a click and the call ends, leaving Blackquill speechless, sitting still in deafening silence.