Arakawa was slumping along the brightly lit corridor back to her room, pain eating away at every particle in her body and feeling so disgusted she thought she might not be able to eat for a week without throwing up. Her mind was still having great difficulty registering what had just taken place moments ago. When she had been called up to Kakuzawa's office, her first thought was that she was to be scolded for lack of headway in her continuation of his son's research on the vector virus, which he did at least once a week. Or maybe it was for still not identifying the student who had seen Professor Kakuzawa's dead body at the university which she was still asked to do during her free time. But this. This was most unexpected.
After he had finished with her, he had gotten off of her, leaving her heavily breathing, limp body on the couch. He then dressed quickly and dismissed her before she had even stood up on both legs or even began to redress herself. He treated the whole affair like a business transaction. A very dry exchange. Forget the shower, no amount of bodily cleaning would ever make her body feel cleansed ever again. She dragged her legs across the floor, making little if no effort to get to her room that was so confined and dismal it might as well been a prison cell. Her mind was a complete blank, refusing to process any further thoughts as she went.
Finally arriving at the door to her quarters, she walked inside to find it still the same as it always looked. Piles upon piles of books reaching up like miniature mountains, a small desk cluttered with research papers, a small annex bed which the covers were sloppily strewn over it, and a single corded phone on the wall beside the door. Arakawa found herself fortunate she was not closterphobic, or this room might cause her to go into seizures. She dropped herself face first into her pillow, not bothering to remove her clothes or glasses. How did I get myself into this, she thought, her mind finally working again. She turned over in her bed to gaze up at bland and featureless ceiling. As she continued to stare, she contemplated how she had exactly gotten to this point in her life.
She was a student at Tokyo University at the time, about to graduate with a degree in molecular science. A diligent student, she was always something of a nerd among her friends. Whereas they chose much more exciting careers to pursue, Arakawa always found solving difficult scientific equations and theorems to be a much better idea of a good time. Always excelling scholastically, science had been her strong suit. She didn't know why she had this talent or interest, but she knew very early on she wanted to be a scientist. Her original plan had been to stay on at the university to gain some experience as a lab assistant in the department labs before striking out on her own. But that was before she met a unshaven man with short brown hair. A man by the name of Kakuzawa.
She met him at one of the science departmental meetings for the students. He had been walking around from student to student making small conversation before it finally was her turn. After some introductory chit chat and friendly small talk, he announced to her that he was here to recruit an assistant for himself on some research his father's facility was funding. He told her he had heard excellent things about her from her professors and was very interested in her more then the other students. As she listened to him, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was odd about him. The feeling was difficult to describe with words. It was vague and almost nonexistent, but it felt peculiar to be in his presence. As if he was hiding something. She later found out that he was a professor at a small, safety school in Kamakura, and that even the students and other professors there thought he was a "complete weirdo". But he was an unusually charismatic man. He seemed as if he could talk his way out of any regrettable situation he might find himself in. Or like he could get anyone to do anything he had wanted, so long as he said it right. A smooth talker for sure. He continued to stroke her ego with words of praise over the next several weeks during phone calls, several cups of coffee, and lunch/dinner dates. Arakawa eventually caved in and immediately before she even graduated, she was hired as his assistant.
And for five years they both analyzed and hunted for the vector virus, until one night a few months ago a student had come to have a late night meeting with the professor. She walked into the downstairs labs find the professor dead, a puddle of blood splattering the wall and his severed head sitting by his motionless body. The rest, as they said, was history. Arakawa's eyelids began to grow increasingly heavy as sleepiness began to overcome her. Right before she drifted into a dreamless slumber, she thought back to something her mother had said to her long ago. Maybe mom was right, maybe I should have been a teacher. Mrs. Arakawa had never like the idea of science as a field of work for her daughter.
Sitting crossed legged in the shop, Tomo opened his shut eyes and taking himself out of his meditative state when he noticed the first signs of morning shine over the buildings, penetrating the smudged windows and his closed eyes. He walked over to the window, wiped away some of the filth with his shirt, and watched as the burning sun took its usual path up the sky. Again he hadn't slept any. But he had long ago at the facility become adept at meditating so as to revitalize his body and renew his energy. More then ever he couldn't afford to sleep now anyway. If he did so, he might lose control of blocking his aura, and Lucy or Number 7 might sense him and blow his element of surprise. Looking at the sphere mixing of red, orange, and yellow his stomach gave a loud rumble, letting him know it required nutrition of some kind.
"Man, I need food," he grumbled.
And how do you plan to get food? This was a good question. Tomo hadn't eaten since the facility and now was desperately wanting to fill his belly. But with no money for which to buy food, he didn't have that many other options. Tomo walked back to the spot where he had been meditating on the floor, bending over to pick up two broken horns and pocketed them. You should have taken some money from the man you killed last night, the voice suggested.
"I worry about food later," Tomo retorted, more out of embarrassment that he hadn't thought of that the previous night. He retied his bandana, then stepped outside into the morning and began to make his way down into the center of the city. If he knew Kakuzawa, the items he had requested would have been sitting there waiting for him by now, and he wanted to get to them first before some unsuspecting passerby. He walked down the sidewalks, looking up at the green street signs and following the directions of the director exactly. He followed them until he came to the alley between the two streets that Kakuzawa had so descriptively described for him. This one however didn't look much different from the other ones Tomo had seen in this city. Still dark, still damp, and just as foul smelling. He instantly saw it. A small crate placed discreetly amongst a pile of cardboard boxes and other assorted trash. He pulled the crate out from its hiding place and opened it to find a brand new, jet black pistol roughly the size of his hand with a few extra magazines of ammo, all filled with custom made bullets. Guaranteed to fly right through vectors. Also inside was an array of mechanical parts and tools used to help upgrade an artificial limb.
What's that for, the voice asked.
"It's for our mercenary friend," Tomo said darkly. If he was to gain both Lucy's and the human's trust, then this fight had to look and feel real to the both of them. Tomo held the new gun in his hands and compared it to the one still stuffed in the back of his jeans were no one could see. This one felt much heavier then the simple one Tomo now carried. And again, Tomo felt the surge of excitement at the events soon to come swell up inside him.
"What do you say we pay our little friend an early morning visit," Tomo said, his tone an overly friendly tune. He placed the gun neatly back in its box, closed the lid, picked it up with both hands, and walked back to the beach.
Bandoh was not a patient man. He sat on a crate by the shore, rapidly tapping his foot against a wooden board under his feet. He knew his being impatient was illogical. It had only been a day since he last seen the boy. But he had been waiting for an opportunity like this for months, and he wasn't likely to keep waiting much longer. Bandoh definitely was not a patient man. Not when it came to this. He scowled at the sea, as if he did so long enough Tomo might pop out of the sea at his command. If that little fuck pulls one over on me.
Bandoh began scanning the beach's sandy shore, trying to see if he had missed any pieces of trash left there. Something to do maybe to kill some time. As he observed it for the fourth time in eight minutes, he assumed that he had cleaned it up completely. Littering had always bothered Bandoh. It wasn't out of any concern for mother "fucking" nature. Nor was it by any means a desire to keep things clean. Certainly none of those things bothered him at all. It just got on his nerves. He hated filth. But he also had a more subjective motive for wanting the beach to be clear of any garbage. If the shore line was clear, then that bitch wouldn't have anything she could use as a projectile during their eventual confrontation. That was assuming that Tomo contacted him before the turn of the next century. Bandoh kicked a small pile of sand he had built with the toes of his foot to relief his frustration. He was about half tempted to get up and go get himself some breakfast before a giant box was dropped right beside him, causing him to nearly topple off his sit, rising into a reflexive fighting stance. Tomo stood with his hands at his hips, looking extremely proud of himself.
"I have a little present for you," he said smiling broadly. Bandoh looked back and forth between Tomo and the box, wary of any chance at betrayal. Slowly Bandoh bent down onto his knees to open the box.
"And it isn't even my birthday yet," he added jokingly as he opened it. He examined the contents with great interest and appreciation, holding the gun firmly in its grip and enjoying the feel of a fresh weapon in his hands again. He then pulled out each magazine of ammo, inspecting the quality of the bullets and making a mental note of exactly how much ammo he had to work with. Then he noticed the spare parts for his mechanical hand sitting at the bottom. He picked these up as well, surprised at the high quality of these tools Tomo had secured. This would upgrade his arm better then it had ever been. Surveying everything at once now, Bandoh had to smile. Things were looking good. This time, he would be ready for her.
"I assume everything is to your approval," Tomo asked, noticing Bandoh's darkly bright grin.
"Damn straight," Bandoh answered. He picked up the black firearm, inserting some of the ammo into its grip, savoring the sound of the click as magazine locked itself in. Aiming playfully at the sea, Bandoh imagined Lucy laying on the beach, the water turning red from her open gunshot wounds. The gun felt familiar in his hands. Returning from his revel, Bandoh put everything away back in the box, then looked up at Tomo through his sunglasses. "What do you want?"
"Excuse me?" Tomo tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Bandoh stood up at this point to look him straight in the face.
"Look buddy I don't like being in debt to anyone. So come on, tell me what I can do to make us even for this stuff and helping me out," Bandoh said bitterly, sounding like this was causing him physical displeasure. Tomo plucked at his chin in mock thinking, until his stomach gave a grumble so loud it was impossible for Bandoh not to have heard it.
"I am kind of hungry," he said. Bandoh just laughed.
"Man, I'm liking you more and more," he said in-between laughs. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he turned him and guided back up the coast. "So tell, what sorta plan have you got cookin?"
Lucy's eyes shot open, her vision obscured by the darkness of her room. She sat upright in her bed and allowed her vision to adapt itself to the inky shadows. She had another nightmare. This was the second one in two days, and she could tell they were slowly becoming more unbearable. This time around, she found herself reliving every gruesome murder she had every done as if experiencing them for a second time. What was worst was that she had complete awareness of each chain of events to come next. Yet despite her telling her body to stop, it defiantly disobeyed her. She watched in regrettable horror as her body cut people in two against her wishes, beyond her control. It felt like the body was hers, but someone else was making it move. She would scream out in agony, willing her body to cease while it continued to paint her dream with crimson.
Then she felt it again. That presence of another that felt like ice and fire mixed together. Only this time, it was much stronger. Much more real. When is this going to end, she asked herself as she wiped away some grit from her eyes. She turned to look at the digital clock that sat on the floor by her bed. It currently read 5:12 in the morning. Lucy then cocked her head to look at the blinds of her window. She could make out no gleam coming in through the shades. The sun still had yet to rise apparently. Even though she knew she wouldn't fall back asleep (and she didn't really want to anyway), she rested her head on her feather pillow so as to at least be comfortable. She just gaped at the ceiling covered in darkness, her mind empty of any thoughts. She rested there for what felt like hours, but in actuality was only minutes, when she felt the same pressure in her head again. It was so sharp she winched her eyes in surprise. She placed her hand over the stump of one of her horns, trying to make it stop. She sat up again.
This feeling. She knew it all too well. A diclonius. And a powerful one too. Whoever it was, they were close. Her eyes darted from side to side, her mind set and prepared for any sudden attacks, worried they might jump out from her own closet. Your just being paranoid, she told herself, It's probably just Nana. But Lucy knew this already to not be true. Not only was Nana's aura less potent then this, but Lucy would have recognized it at once. This one was unknown to her. Another burst of pressure in her head confirmed it. This was someone else. Her mind was now a jumble of questions and anxiousness. Who was this person? What were they doing here? Where they after her? Did Kakuzawa send another one after her? All these questions and more jumped at her at once. Instincts told her to ignore it. And yet by some force, she felt bound to investigate.
What are you thinking, she thought, knowing the notion was down right crazy and against better judgment. Yet curiosity seemed to drive her, overriding her logical senses. reaching out with her own ability, she tried to get an exact location of where the feeling was coming from. The beach. Without full knowing why, she was getting up, changing out of her night clothes, and checking the time and calculating how long it would take for her to get to the beach and back before anyone noticed. On tiptoes she walked down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone up. Every creek in the floorboard had never sounded so loud to Lucy before now. As she got downstairs, as an extra precaution she left a note in the kitchen telling whoever woke up first that she went out for an early morning walk, hoping no one would worry.
Putting her shoes on at the door, Lucy stepped out into the breezeless morning. Even though it was still summer and there wasn't any wind, Lucy felt a chill creep up her body starting at the soles of her feet and all the way to the crown of her skull, engulfing the entirety of her. She wondered if this was an ill omen of some kind. A warning. She stood still for a moment under the stream of stars above her, looking back and forth between the two doors contemplating whether or not she should check this out or not. Finally making up her mind, she set off at a trot for the beach. I just know I'm going to regret this.