Episode 2: Suspect (Gather)

Taking his glasses off and appraising the dirt smeared across them with a slightly perturbed frown, the man started to wipe them off on his tunic but soon realized the motion would do him precious little good. The garment itself, soiled by the day's work, was almost beyond salvaging. It made his skin prickle, even after a year, to be thus attired. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been presentable. Even his normally well-kept sheet of long blond hair had begun to mat of late.

He hadn't expected probationary tasks to be glamorous, but his impeccable taste still chafed against the harsh reality comprising his present life. No one understood better than he the natural human craving for revenge...but ordering his sentence to be carried out in the sanitation department? There was a fine line between retribution and sadism, and in his mind somebody somewhere had crossed it. The immaturity of his judges further rankled him, but he did have to admit their righteous indignation wasn't wholly unfounded. After all, hadn't they elected him into the leadership themselves? Of course they would want him to suffer comeuppance for duping them so thoroughly. It was the only balm they could apply to their bruised consciences.

The same salve could not be applied to his own wounded pride. He had to accept his fate with grace, burying stoically all anger and relying yet again on his logical mind alone. But the wound was still there, even if he admitted the futility of the venture in which he had acquired it. Nothing could change that.

So Shun Aurora, former (if short-lived) dictator of Judoh, suffered in silence among the refuse of the people he had sought to "save" from themselves while those he had sought to dominate slowly filled all the holes he had left in society. News of Dominic Jomas's appointment to the leadership of Shop Echigo had reached him, but already he had a fair idea of who would come to take control eventually. That company could never be controlled in the open, even by honest men. Nothing that big could ever function with all its aspects under public scrutiny. His number one hypothesis for the new brains behind the conglomerate made him seethe inside. Even if he himself had dealt with Vita in earlier days, they had fronted the resistance movement. That upstart punk had bested him with precious little more than the backing of an apparently invincible old man and his ragtag foreign followers. Humiliating.

Letting a wrinkle of frustration crease his carefully controlled brow, Shun dug his shovel further into the mound of trash assigned to him for the day. Political convicts sent to sanitation were usually sentenced work in the incinerators, but special offenders sorted through the trash first to ensure that nothing of importance slipped through by accident. The piles were double-checked; shifts within the disposal plant were assigned on a weekly basis. In the past year, Shun had been given second-check duty for 30 weeks. Though he performed the abominable task without complaint and to the fullest of his ability (abilities he felt were being squandered), he remained distrusted. Going into his punishment, he had wanted to believe that his brother was right and that humanity had it within themselves to forgive. That belief had yet to develop within him, try as he might. Old habits died hard. New habits that seemed to have no backing in the real world...well, those were doomed from the start.

It had become his custom to mull things over thusly as he worked, full mental capacity not being needed for his current task, and so the small girl standing behind him, pinching her nose against the stench of the garbage, had to shout several times before she got his attention.

"Hey! HEY! I'm talking to you! Daisuke's brother!"

She got through to him with that one. Shun turned, surprised to be addressed directly as an individual after a year at work as a body only. How the girl had gotten into the plant he hadn't the faintest idea, but now that she had he was intrigued to see what someone who knew Daisuke would possibly want with him. She seemed familiar, too...where did he know her from?

"May I help you?" he asked blandly, professional varnish returning almost immediately. She frowned, checked something printed on a crumpled stack of papers clenched tightly in her fist. Then, finding whatever she'd looked at to be satisfactory, she cut right to the point. "Daisuke's in trouble and I want you to come with me to help him," she informed him crossly, folding her skinny arms across an equally sticklike body.

Surprised, Shun blinked, then swept a cursory glance around their surroundings. The other workers, lost in their own thoughts, seemed to be paying no attention to the eccentric intruder; the supervisors were nowhere to be seen. "You've heard from Daisuke?" he asked simply, not wanting to give her any ideas as to his intentions at present. Primarily, he admitted wryly to himself, because even he wasn't certain what his intentions were exactly. Or, for that matter, hers. "Who are you?"

"Monica Gabriel," she replied sourly. "And I know enough. I know Daisuke's captured in Magnagalia and they're turning him over to the Celestials. Jeez! Like that'll help save their city!"

"Celestials?" Shun's head jerked up abruptly. "Save the city? What are you talking about?" The old administrative sternness returned all too easily to his tone. Perhaps men could not forgive others because men could not themselves change...

He cast another look around the garbage plant, getting the feeling he needed to have a longer conversation with this girl than his current surroundings would allow him. Taking one of her papers, he pulled a pen from his pocket (even in this most inglorious of occupations, he made a point of always being prepared) and scribbled down an address. "Here. Meet me here at sundown. Show the woman there my handwriting on this and tell her...tell her the beetle doesn't need to sting." He returned the paper to its original owner with the hint of an ironic smile. "Can you do that?"

"Of course I can," she objected, huffing. "I'm not a child, you know. But what am I supposed to do until sundown?"

"That's not my concern," Shun replied, and turned back to his trash pile. "No go before you're found and apprehended."

"Oh, they can't catch me," the girl responded, on her way out herself. "I'm Special Unit. I can get away with anything." Then, leaving Shun to ponder that statement alone, she skipped away, apparently satisfied with the results of the conversation. For his part, Shun merely shook his head, forced his mind to blank, and returned to protecting the city of Judoh one discarded carton after another. But he couldn't help awaiting sundown a bit more anxiously than usual. Oh, Daisuke...what have you gotten yourself into...and what could you possibly need me for?

He tried not to be too pleased. But it didn't work very well.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Huh?" Kyoko, entering the Special Unit's office after her lunch break (a very pleasant affair, shared with her grandfather at a small cafe; he had successfully encouraged her not to worry too much about one certain individual in particular even if he did have plenty to say about the subject of nonintervention in general), blinked her bluegreen eyes in confusion and surprise.

"What, did a hurricane hit?" she muttered to herself, gaze shifting from her askew computer terminals to the files scattered all around her desk. Smartly she strode to her desk and began, mechanically, repairing the damage. "Jeez, I told them not to turn the fans up so high..."

"It was not a hurricane," reported the man in the corner, who had not moved from his post since their last conversation. "It was Monica. And you look cute as always, angel."

"Thank you, J," Kyoko responded automatically, then straightened indignantly. "Monica went through my things? What kind of liberties does she think she has? Thinking she can throw other people's possessions around like this..." She shuffled some papers at random into a pile, then thought better of the action and began going through the sheets of paper one by one.

"Those files are property of the City Safety Management Agency and are not your possessions. And Monica was searching for information on the whereabouts of Shun Aurora."

Kyoko started as she cut her finger on the side of a paper. "Sh-Shun Aurora?" she asked incredulously, turning to the tall man and repressing the urge to pop the injured digit into her mouth in a most un-governmental managerial manner. "Whatever for?"

"Monica believes Daisuke to be in danger," the machine reported impassively. "To rescue him, she needs to gain access to Magnagalia. To that end, she requires someone who knows how to manipulate situations..."

"And she figures Shun's going to help?" Kyoko sat down abruptly, smoothed out her skirt, and tried to focus on her screens but could not. "Why didn't she ask me, though? Did she think I wasn't concerned? That I'd try to stop...hey, J?"

"Yes, Kyoko?"

"Are you invited on the rescue mission?" She propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her hands.

"Explicitly, no. But Monica has inferred strongly that I am coming along. She requires my telemeter to locate Daisuke."

"I see." When had she typed "Illegal Activity Report" on that document? She didn't remember doing that...she wasn't honestly considering... "And a boat? Where's she going to get a boat?"

"This plan is less than complete at present. Monica believes Shun will do all the thinking."

"Well, then they'll never leave. The chances of Shun Aurora agreeing to help a little girl save his little brother when said brother may not even be in trouble are..."

"Thirty-two percent, factoring in personality paradoxes of both parties. But Daisuke's chance of being in danger, given his characteristics and track record, is upwards of sixty-five percent."

"That low?" Kyoko tried to laugh off J's treatment of his partner's knack for getting into scrapes, but the lightness in her voice was forced and she knew it. "So how long does it take to get to Magnagalia?"

"A week, in the most current oceanic transportation."

"And how long can Magnagalia survive without the Celestials' high-end system?" One by one the objects tallied in her onscreen calculator: Cost of bullets—cost of commandeered government skiff—cost of supplies. The corresponding infractions lined up in parallel lines on her activity report. Given the current budget...assuming the Special Unit engaged in no other cases for about two months (unlikely)...it just might be affordable. Might. Of course, it could always just get the entire Special Unit fired.

"I do not have the necessary data to process that question. It depends entirely on the resourcefulness of Magnagalia's people."

"I see." Kyoko rubbed her temples. "And where is Monica now?"

"Security cameras in the garbage incineration facility recorded her entering the premises two point three hours ago and leaving twenty minutes later."

"So either the conversation was short or they're meeting elsewhere." Standing up again, Kyoko grabbed a sheet of directions as it slid from the printer. "See you, J. I'm off to Phia's. Watch the office while I'm gone."

"Roger, angel." He watched her go, then turned back to the room. Motion registered faintly on his sensors in the opposite corner, but the trace vanished as soon as he stepped forward to investigate. Disregarding it as a potential bug, he stored the desire to inform Antonia of the inconsistency when next she stopped by to check on him and turned his attention instead to the telemeter whirring away in his circuits. As usual for the past year, it registered nothing.

J disliked abnormality. It disrupted his ability to function at his fullest, distracted him.

"A man keeps his mind on the task at hand," he reminded himself. "But he also remembers his friends when they need him. Come home soon, partner."

o0o0o0o0o0

"Yo, Shogun." Pushing aside the curtain hanging across the door to the East Wind, the young man strolled casually in and removed his cap and sunglasses, shaking out a messy head of black-and-blue hair. "It's me."

"Vampire." The old man remained imperturbable as always. "You should not be traveling unsupervised."

Clair smirked snidely; then his face fell and he flopped down next to the sitting elder. "Mauro would try to stop me if he knew what I was up to. And I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself." From his pants pocket he produced a handgun, which he twirled lazily on one finger before pointing it momentarily at the old man's head, then secreted the weapon again. "See?"

Steadily the old man regarded the young one from under the brim of his red hat, brown eyes unreadable yet stern. "Better men than you have carried guns but lost their lives."

"I didn't come here to be scolded, old man," Clair drawled touchily. "I need information fast. Where's Daisuke Aurora?"

"I don't know." The leader of the Gazaardolls bowed his head. "But if I had to guess, I'd say..."

"Magnagalia, right?" the young don interrupted almost nonchalantly. "Has anyone else come to you about this? The police?"

The silver head shook slowly from side to side. "Not officially."

"Special Unit, then?" Clair cackled softly to himself before continuing. "I might have known. When do they leave, then?"

"Tomorrow night. You plan on stopping them?" Brown eyes met purple ones, though neither one faced the other head-on.

Clair shrugged, stood, pulled his cap back on to hide his telltale hairstyle. "Believe what you will. But if anyone asks, Vita won't be missing a boat the next few weeks, and Vampire has fallen ill and is conducting business from his chambers only. Got it?"

"Understood, Vampire. And Clair?"

Pausing at the door, the young man looked back through his heavy shades.

The old man bobbed his head in respect. "Good luck."

o0o0o0o0o0

Phia Oliveira, ex-secretary and sometimes assassin, refused to listen (despite her inclinations to eavesdropping) to the heated conversation being carried on in the living room of her shabby flat and focused instead on preparing hot drinks for her two guests and indefinite boarder. Faintly she'd heard the words "Ken would stop us" and "Boma would get in trouble," and that was all she needed to know. Just the three of them plus the machine, then? They'd never make it past the twenty-mile limit imposed by Judoh's government on all vessels. It would take a miracle, or else someone with incredible connections. And as phenomenal as her old teacher was, she highly doubted even Shogun could help the unlikely trio pull this one off.

Part of her mind reminded her that she shouldn't let Shun even try to leave at all, but the rest of her very quickly allied in telling the rebellious portion to shut up and bother someone else. If anyone could save Shun from himself, for he wasn't in the clear just yet, it would be his little brother. Should he have a chance to act as the brains of yet another grand scheme, it would boost his considerably deflated sense of self-worth. She just hoped the temptation to strike a blow against the people who had so wronged him wouldn't prove too great.

But how would he prove his true nature to himself if he were never tested? She had to let him find out who he was his own way. How could she claim to know?

"The tea's ready," she reported, pushing open the kitchen door with her back and carrying the drinks in on a tray. Her shoulder ached under the heavy load; the bullet wound still bothered her from time to time, but she bore the pain stoically. After years under Shun Aurora, Phia was accustomed to every sort of injury he bestowed unwittingly on those he loved. She just hoped he'd tend to his self-lacerations before it was too late.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"You liar!" The warden's fist cracked across Daisuke's face, sent him sprawling to a corner of his holding cell. "The Celestials say they aren't interested in talking to anyone who's not a state official!"

"I never said they would want to talk to me," the blonde said, smiling. "I said I wanted to maybe talk to them. Two entirely different things."

His metaphorical cheek earned his physical one another solid smack. "Don't give me that! Unless..." He peered at the prisoner, piggy eyes leering but curious. "Can we use you to perform the ceremony?"

Daisuke shrugged, closed his eyes. "Who knows. Probably not. Sorry."

"Don't give me your apology!!" Turning away, the warden clutched the bars of Daisuke's cell, white-knuckled and shaking. "How you can smile at a time like this...how you can not care...have you no compassion?"

"I care," the young man replied, sliding down until he lay on the ground staring at the concrete ceiling. "I just can't do anything. So I'm determined not to panic."

"Oh, a wise guy, eh?" Stepping out of the cell, the warden clanged the door shut and locked it. "You'll sing a different tune after our scientists are done with you. If there's any truth to your claims, we'll find out."

Daisuke, still lying on the floor, sighed as the man's footsteps receded. "You didn't give my name, did you?" he asked the absent warden. "Or did she really not want to see me?" He smiled up at the darkness overhead. "Bad form, Mom. You can't live in the past, but you can't ignore it either."

Sighing, he closed his eyes, determined to face whatever new trials the panicking people would impose upon him next with a refreshed mind. Twenty-four hours remained until the water purification system would shut down within Magnagalia. Thirty-six hours until the lights would go out.

If someone didn't do something, they'd be out forever.