Disclaimer: Not mine, except for a handful of extra people, so don't sue. I mean, really, how lame would that be?
A/N: You guys are so patient- y'all're t3h sh1zn17 4 r33l!
--Now beta-ed for your pleasure--
Sorry for the long lapse between updates (aren't you tired of hearing that?), but vacation beckoned. And if you think I'd pass up warm ocean, frozen rum drinks, exotic flora and perpetual sunshine to sit and stare at my computer waiting for inspiration, then you're crazier than I gave you credit for.
I did write some while I was gone- this section will tie up some loose ends and explain a bit more stuff, while simultaneously ushering in the action. We'll see why Ryuho is so OOC and figure out what the hell AIMED is. Fun stuff.
Also, for the grown folks ('cause it's rated M), if you like zesty lemon check out my very first one- Sweet & Sour Pork- posted a couple of days ago. Yep, written on vacation, too. Follow my profile to the link, I guess. Special thanks to Scented Feathers for including that one-shot in the C2 community "The Pendant"- I'm so psyched!
Now, on to the fun stuff!
Chapter 4b- storming
125 kilometers off the coast of the Lost Ground, a large, commercial fishing vessel bobs languidly on the ocean's placid surface. The current darkness blends the boat imperceptibly into the horizon; during light hours its unassuming state draws no additional attention. The outside boasts several indiscernible stages of disrepair along with coordinating coats of rust. The inner hull, however, conceals a secret as dark as the night in which it hides.
State-of-the-art, highly technical and highly classified equipment crowds the newly converted hull of the trawler. Having been altered within only the last few months, the smell of gutted fish still permeates the metal walls. In the center of the crowded space a sophisticated Doppler imaging system cycles noiselessly, portraying incandescent representations of the surrounding ocean. The bright, undulating blob spread across the screen beckons the slightest hint of a satisfied curl to the corners of a mouth. A large, imposing figure addresses the individual operating the complex machinery for confirmation.
"It is definitely this one here?" tapping a finger on the glass of the display.
"Yes, right there. Bearing 26.75 degrees north-northwest. Projected to make landfall in approximately nine hours, thirty-seven minutes. One problem, though. It's not as large as was originally calculated. Should we continue with the operation?"
"Definitely. It may draw a bit more suspicion than we had planned, but no one will think to place blame when acts of nature are concerned. It will still provide the cover we require."
"It's not too late to suspend the op. Though the initial tests were promising, all were conducted over open water. It is unknown for certain what will happen over a land mass. We may fall short of our objective."
"I am not concerned. We have anticipated every possible variable. Nothing can go wrong, even under less than ideal conditions."
"Is the projected target still the center of the city, sir?"
"Yes." A hint of regret creeps into the commander's voice, "My intelligence informs me that the primary mark is located somewhere in the city, but is unable to provide any specifics." A jaw line tightens and the grinding of teeth punctuates the pause. In a flash however, all perceptible anger is replaced by a passive, calm demeanor. "No matter. The magnitude of the event has been recalculated to extend beyond the borders of the city for several kilometers, given our latest information."
Slow, confident strides bring booted feet within arm's length of two long, horizontal glass enclosures, the contents of which are obscured by dark swirling smoke. No attempt is made to mask the satisfaction emanating from him. "Every square meter of the Lost Ground will be devastated. Extension of our powers will be absolute."
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Thus the next morning, when Kanami and Cammy leave for the dairy farm, the sky is clear and cloudless. Later, when Ryuho strides off into the horizon it is overcast. Still later, when Mimori drives off to run "errands" it is drizzling. When Cougar later departs to visit Urizane and Elian it is raining at a steady downpour. When Tachibana finally checks outside it has begun to storm, heavy curtains of rain obscuring all but the outline of the surrounding cliffs. When the television reception finally cuts out on Kazuma's program the ditches are overflowing, flooding the streets. And when the electricity also goes out on Tachibana and him, gale-force winds are beating fists against the house. It is far too late by the time they all realize that this is anything but a typical storm.
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One foot in front of the other. Keep walking forward. Don't you dare turn around! Ryuho wants so badly to just go back to the house, to gather Mimori in his arms and hold her until she promises to forgive him. However, there are simply too many reasons why he cannot allow himself to do so. God, he felt so empty and alone! As if to punctuate his misery, drizzle begins to peck at his skin and clothing, until he is walking in a steady downpour. Perfect.
The feel of wet clothes sticking to Ryuho's skin is all too familiar, but at least now there is a good reason. Actually, compared to waking up every day to a drenching sweat, taking a little stroll in a soaking rainfall isn't so bad. In any case, he is thankful for one aspect of the deluge- it is providing the literal cold shower that he needs after locking lips with his enchanting best friend and former co-worker, whom until very recently he had treated like dirt.
The longer he walks, the more it feels as if the sky is trying to vertically drown him. Perhaps it can wash away the guilt gnawing at him, to give him some peace of mind. You don't deserve peace of mind, you ass!
Great, now he's berating himself. It's official: Mimori is driving me stark raving mad! Every time he is around her his emotions fight their way to the surface, threatening to spill out of him like a vigorously shaken soda. Well, not just around her, actually. She just happens to be the focus of his more… persistent feelings. There are times when Mimori is nowhere near him or his thoughts and he still feels like a train wreck of sensitivity.
Liar, she's always on your mind. Because you love her, and that's where she belongs. Okay, fine, she occupies nearly every waking moment of his consciousness. That still doesn't answer the probing questions…
Why was his typically stoic resolve eroding away? And by God, why in the hell had he allowed himself to kiss her? He can no longer deny that lately he has undergone some very noticeable changes, ever since… When had it started? Being around Mimori for a week had certainly chiseled away at his sentimental fortitude, but he had seen her every day when they had worked at HOLY and he had been able to maintain his distance.
No, it was before this week, before the fight with Kazuma. Ever since those nightmares. They had haunted his sleep for months, always vivid and frightening, until they morphed into that… feeling. That feeling that followed him into wakefulness. That feeling that he was not alone- would never be alone. He had never dreamed like this at HOLY. Or right after he'd left. It was when he had returned to HOLY, to fight with Kyoji Mujo. The first dream had occurred the night he and Kazuma had brought down HOLY. The night the Commander had fought him and died. The night that Cherise had…
It smacked him in the face and ran straight to his gut. He would have perished that day, but she had sacrificed herself for him, had poured… all… of… herself… into… him. The recognition was instantaneous- so much so that he wondered how it could have evaded him for so long. The uncharacteristic emotions he was feeling, his newfound vulnerability, the eruption of his passion to the surface- it was all her! She had done it- was still doing it! In some unfathomable manner she had stayed with him by staying within him!
At that very moment a giggle leapt from his chest to his rain-soaked lips. He giggled! What the hell? He slapped his hands across his mouth and shot bug eyes around him, scanning for anyone he might have to kill after hearing him… He knew he was alone, no other fool was walking about in this deluge, but seriously! He had NEVER giggled in his entire life. Didn't know he knew how to giggle. It was her. She had made him do it. Was laughing at him for taking so long to sense her- to put it all together.
"Don't do that again!" yelled aloud to himself and her and anyone else who happens to be within a kilometer's radius of him. Then he sighs and ponders the implications. Hell, it's not like he can even be mad. She's alive- kind of.
How alive? Was this a shadow of her that had transferred during her sacrifice? Did she take over whenever she wanted, or was her overly-emotive imprint just a new influential contribution to his own emotional state? This is fast approaching problematic. Cherise was a walking ball of drama and he simply didn't do emotions. Or hadn't before. In response to this new revelation he is suddenly seized by another rarely explored emotion- fear.
Ryuho shakes his soaking wet head in frustration. Great. Vulnerability. The gift that keeps on giving.
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Mimori drives past the road leading to the market, instead heading towards the city. Tiny raindrops dot her windshield and the road ahead, but she pays it no significant attention. The Mainland news had predicted a small storm for the day. As if to confirm her recollection, a roll of thunder rumbles gently overhead.
Cruising through the steadily dampening roads, she is thankful for the opportunity to grab some alone time, still not entirely sure of what had happened between Ryuho and her. One minute Mimori was living out her fantasy- being kissed and held by the one man she loved more than anything else. The next minute she had been in pain and confused as he just… walked off! Anger had mixed with hurt as she watched his back recede into the distant horizon- How dare he!- but she was too shocked and weakened to follow him.
Instead she had staggered back down the cliffs to the house with some difficulty, searching for answers and help. She knew that Cougar or Kazuma, even if for totally different reasons, would likely be more than happy to drag Ryuho back for her. But one look at her wide-eyed and woozy appearance and any thoughts of Ryuho had been set entirely out of their minds.
Tachibana had been so angry, unless she had misread that 'to hell with Ryuho' look in his eyes. Kazuma, on the other hand, had been… concerned. She'd been sure that Kazuma wasn't entirely fond of her, but when he had found her so fragile and vulnerable he somehow morphed into a consoling gentleman! It is hard to believe that he can be like that with anyone other than Kanami. The idea that Kazuma has deeper and more complex dimensions intrigues her.
The car approaches the city wall and she passes through the gates unimpeded. The massive extendable barriers blocking entrance through the wall have been disabled for months now, as more people seem to wish to leave the city rather than enter it. She resolves to temporarily leave her musings over males at the gates and instead concentrates on her destination: AIMED headquarters.
Her cause. Her brainchild. Her project. Her baby. The manifestation of her hope for the Lost Ground.
It had started only two and a half months ago, when Ryuho and Kazuma were bringing down ship after ship and plane after plane from the Mainland. With their unstoppable success, it seemed possible to hope for an independent Lost Ground. Tachibana had already been successful in acquiring supplies for the Inners in an attempt to counter the hardships. After he had offered Mimori a place to stay following her escape from HOLY, she had in turn offered her business savvy to help with his aid projects.
In no time, both learned that Mimori was a natural at organizing and fundraising, and soon she had grown Tachibana's vital yet limited donations into a steamrolling charity operation. By the end of the second week they had recruited seven volunteers, four of which were Alter users, and, after crowding out Tachibana's kitchen and living room, were in need of a location from which to base their operations. Again, Mimori came to the rescue by getting a merchant to donate a small, out-of-business restaurant in the city to serve as their headquarters. Though not much, it was already wired for electricity and phones, making it more than adequate in Tachibana's eyes. They were mostly set up by the following week.
She smiles at the recollection as rain beats down even stronger on her car. It appears as though the storm is growing in intensity by the minute and it seems even worse inside the city than outside in the wastelands.
'Wastelands'- what a horrible thing to call her new home. Before the Great Uprising 22 years ago, the Muraji Economic District had been an indistinguishable part of the rest of Japan- a bustling city surrounded by rolling countryside, fertile farmlands, even vacation spots. However, the event that would give birth to the Alter power also wracked the land with seismic events of such magnitude that the entire Kanagawa prefecture tore away from Japan to become an isolated island. The earthquakes also reshaped the grounds, so that the center of the island fractured and rose several hundred meters higher than the ocean, creating mountains and craggy outcroppings.
The area was mostly abandoned by the Mainland shortly thereafter, having been economically devastated, and the remaining occupants were figuratively hurled several decades into the past- the surrounding world pushing forward into new realms of science and technology without them. Seven years ago, Mimori's father had launched a redevelopment project to restart the economy of the Lost Ground. Numerous large corporations and organizations had shown interest in the project, however many were troubled by the unique 'phenomenon' within the Lost Ground, namely the Alter users.
Calming their fears regarding the Alter users necessitated the development of a distinctive type of police force- HOLD, and eventually HOLY. In their infancy both organizations had been effective and respected. However, because the highest authorities governing the organizations had come from the Mainland, the philosophy and practices of HOLD and HOLY eventually took a detrimental turn. The atrocities they would later commit against Alter users in their lust for power would be horrific in its brutality and inhumanity. Now, in their absence, the Lost Ground and its occupants still bore deep scars from the organization's once dominating and persecuting presence.
This is the reason why the Lost Ground requires its sovereignty; why it needs support to heal until it can stand proud and autonomous once again. Mimori is certain that AIM will be that help, its purpose to act as a crutch for the currently crippled Lost Ground and prepare it for what they all believe to be an inevitable independence.
As Mimori nears the 'entertainment' section of the city, the curtain of rain is so dark and obscuring that she is forced to drive more by feel and familiarity than by sight. Luckily her path is illuminated by bold strikes of lightning nearby, helping her avoid ditches and sidewalks. She is thankful that no one else is crazy enough to be out driving in the city in this stormy mess. Through the torrent of water she can now barely make out the awning of the former French restaurant 'J'Espere'. Pulling up close to the door, she readies herself and dashes out of the car to the comparative dryness under the cover of the canopy.
By the time she makes her way into the building, however, the nearly horizontal winds coupled with the torrential downpour have soaked every exposed part of her. She wrings her sopping wet hair out like a mop, and pulls her soggy jacket off to inspect her dampened clothes underneath. Fabulous. It doesn't get much better.
"Looks like you brought the storm with you," a voice reaches out to her from the doorway of the former kitchen. A tall, overly-skinny man nearly twice Mimori's age steps into the room with her, eyes smiling behind his glasses.
"Oh nonsense, Mr. Hideki. It just followed me here- and then tried to drown me." She playfully shrugs her damp shoulders in defeat.
"Now Mimori, what would Tachibana say about letting yourself be followed? And by something as large as a thunderstorm?" Hideki admonishes with mock sincerity.
"I guess we'll have to trust the storm to keep the secret of out location." Then she changes the subject to organization business, "So what's happened since I've been away?"
In response the grown man casts his spectacled glance down towards his shoes guiltily, "Well… we're expecting some additional shipments from overseas by the end of the week. But preparation sort of put the organization into a bit of a tizzy. We were able to handle it but, um, the office got a bit… disheveled."
Mimori finally takes in the state of the room and groans in dismay. Every available desktop, tabletop and even some chairs are strewn with stacks of papers and reports, some of the telephones have been switched around, and a homemade 'out of order' sign hangs on their old refurbished copy machine. Well, what did she expect? It seems somehow inevitable when one considers that she had been gone an entire week to tend to those recovering at Tachibana's house.
She walks farther into the room to meet Hideki and further survey the mess. Even with his help, it will likely take the better part of the day to straighten and reorganize things. "Why didn't someone come and get Tachibana or myself?"
"We sent someone with all the paperwork to Tachibana. Word was you were very busy and he probably didn't want to stress you any further," the man offers, sinking his thin frame into one of the few vacant chairs, suddenly weary.
After making a mental note to kill Tachibana when she gets home, Mimori scans the rest of the room, taking a mental inventory. The large space is nevertheless crowded with desks and tall bookcases. There are old, rebuilt computers on each of the desks, with maps of the Lost Ground spread over the walls, pins and pen marks dotting their surfaces.
She finally draws her eyes over the back wall to the banner which Cammy had diligently crafted for them, expounding upon the acronym of the organization's name: "Alliance for the Independence of the Muraji Economic District." In smaller yet equally bold letters across the bottom, their motto declares, "We Are Not Lost."
Seized by a new warmth and determination, Mimori readies herself to put things right once again. Looking over at Hideki, "Do you think you can spare an afternoon to help me get things back in order?"
He shrugs his boney shoulders and smiles at her, "You can count on me."
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Finally escaping from the raging storm, Straight Cougar dashes over the threshold of Urizane's front door, soaked to the skin. "Geez, it keeps getting worse." Every piece of his clothing drips onto the floor, creating scattered puddles that Urizane frowns at as he scans the man. Even Cougar's racing-striped hair has wilted in the weather.
"I actually saw you coming this time." Urizane then points his eyes towards the pools on the floor, "though I'm thinkin' maybe I shoulda left you outside. What, no roadrunner impression today?"
Before Cougar can offer an explanation, a voice full of surety cuts between the two men and answers for him. "He's trying to heed Ms. Mimori's cautions about using his Alter ability so much since his incident." Wearing a slight hint of smugness, Elian approaches the two from another room carrying a towel.
Raising an eyebrow at him, Cougar cautions, "You're in my head again, kid."
"Sorry," Elian apologizes, offering him the towel, "but it's so easy to read you whenever you're thinking of Ms. Mimori." This causes Urizane to let out a laugh as generous as the size of his belly.
Rolling his eyes at the watermelon man, Cougar switches the subject over to a new topic. "Actually, I do need a favor from you, Elian. While I was walking over here," he pauses for any additional chuckles from his round friend, "I noticed the storm getting much worse than was predicted. Just now it's reached an intensity that even I've never seen here on the Lost Ground before. Something's just not sitting quite right with me. Elian, can you put out your feelers and see if you can sense anything strange? I could be paranoid but just check for me, okay?"
"Sure!" the younger boy brightens at the idea of doing a long-range scan with his Alter, even if only on the premise of one of Cougar's 'hunches.' In Elian's mind there are far less convincing reasons to exercise his ability.
"You think somethin' wonky is goin' on?" questions Urizane, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.
"Hey, could be nothing. But things have been a bit too quiet around here lately…" offers Cougar.
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As thunder rumbles ominously overhead, rainwater pours down the eaves of Tachibana's house, streaking down the windows to trace tearful rivulets. The storm against the roof and sides of the house pound ceaselessly, sounding like oil hitting a blazing hot frying pan, bouncing off the darkened walls inside and banishing all calm.
Having lost television reception and then electricity altogether, Kazuma leans against the window, staring through the streaky panes to the water curtaining outside. "I've never seen so much rain in my life. It's so weird. I hope Kanami's okay."
"Don't worry, Cammy is with her. She'll make sure Kanami stays safe," Tachibana offers as he lights another emergency candle. Tachibana secretly worries for Cammy, too, even though he knows that she is pretty resourceful when she has to be. "The others at the farm will take care of them, too. They'll be fine. Perhaps they still have electricity."
Kazuma nods in agreement, and then frowns over a new thought. "Mimori was only running errands, right? How come she's not back yet? You shouldn't have let her go out just yet."
Tachibana is a bit irritated with Kazuma's accusation, but remains calm as he explains, "It wasn't storming like this when she left. Besides, after that little fiasco with Ryuho she probably needs a change of scenery for a while." Then, to further assure the older teen, "I'm sure she found a place to duck into to wait out the storm. She's a smart girl."
He did, however, feel more than a little worried for Mimori. Tachibana knew what Mimori meant when she said she would 'run errands.' He knew she was planning on going all the way to the city, to check on AIMED headquarters.
One thing he would give the girl, she was passionate with her causes. In the few short months it had been in operation, Mimori had worked multiple miracles for and through the organization. Tachibana brought with him his numerous contacts, and Mimori had acquired even more. Her charming manners and evident intelligence made her a perfect spokeswoman, and he let her handle the face-to-face meetings and the printed press releases.
He warned her about keeping a low profile, what with her famous last name, and she had wisely heeded him. Nevertheless, he still worried for her safety. There were groups in the Lost Ground as well as on the Mainland who were less than enthusiastic about the work they were doing. Tachibana naïvely hoped they would never discover her connection with AIMED.
Attempting to stifle his growing concern, he goes to hunt for the battery-operated radio. Something about this storm just doesn't feel quite right and he wants to hear any local weather reports or storm-related news that might pacify the apprehension gnawing at his insides.
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Ryuho's splashing footsteps have grown less and less purposeful as he distances himself from the house. He can feel the emotional wrestling match within him and knows that it is her again. She's pleading with him, insisting he turn around and fix things now!
"I'm still in charge!" he shouts aloud, feeling foolish even as he feels justified. He tries desperately to stick to the original plan: to disappear into the wastelands again to search out his answers alone. Alone.
The longer he walks the more he realizes that he will be unable to vanish into the wastelands like last time. Back then he had no memory, no duty, no cause, no weakness… he could roam freely searching for those things. However, now that he has found them he realizes with haunting clarity that he will no longer be able to disappear. He stops.
"Dammit!" shouted into the swirling torrent around him. Giant chunks of soaked ground evaporate around him as he glows with the power of his Alter. Impenetrable armor encases his wet body and he resolutely about-faces, launching himself into the air. It will only take a few minutes to cross the many kilometers he has walked to return to Tachibana's house. To return to Mimori.
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125 kilometers offshore, encased within the unassuming shell of an old commercial fishing boat, computers blink and beep as real-time data tracks brightly across every screen.
The man sitting in front of the main display offers another report to his superior, "Sir, all the incoming data indicates that phase 1 of the operation has been a success. The storm has spread to encompass all of the land area of the Lost Ground, with the eye centered over the western part of the city."
His commanding officer smiles in smug satisfaction. He had never had any doubts about the op and was now eager to flex the full power at his fingertips. "Excellent. We prep for phase 2, launching it on my mark. Have everything ready within the half-hour. I want to use the cover of the storm for our next attack."
"As you wish, sir." He jumps onto the microphone and repeats the man's orders.
The Commander saunters over to again inspect the long glass tubes- one now smokeless and empty. He is soon joined by several technicians who hover over the controls for the remaining encasement and expertly adjust switches and dials based on the latest set of printouts. The Commander steps back continuing to oversee their work, barely able to contain his anticipation.
Under his breath and to only himself, he repeats with even more certainty his predictions from the night before, "Every square meter of the Lost Ground will be devastated."
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Another chappy finished!
Humongous thank you to all of you who have submitted reviews for this story- you motivate me to work hard to please you guys- keep it up! I luv luv luv the feedback! It's like money and chocolate and… yeah. I wish I could thank you all individually but I've heard we're not supposed to do that.