Alright, so moving forward! Thanks to WillowC1 for the review and favorite! Also thanks to MysticalNyla for the review, adding this story to her favorites list, and alerting the story. Finally thanks to ilikedan for the review!
Dobby's Imaginary Sock
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to D. Gray-man or anything related to it. If I did, then Tim wouldn't be SPOILERS!
Part Twenty-Three: Tantum Ergo
"Lo! o'er ancient forms departing
Newer rites of grace prevail;
Faith for all defects supplying,
Where the feeble senses fail."
St. Thomas Aquinas, Pange Lingua
Neah had always known that his life was vastly different from that of the common majority. He'd seen snippets of it while travelling along country roads in a coach, looking out to see people plowing fields or cutting long grass with a scythe. It was also present in the unlit hallways where servants hid during masquerades and fancy dinners. Yes, he was accustomed to the finer things in life and had come to accept that in this aspect Fate had smiled upon him favorably. Only when he'd broken out of this bubble did he come to see how the other half lived, what real life was like. He didn't count flitting about in fancy fabric and schmoozing with the elite as real. Aristocrats only knew how to make things look pretty. They, like the Millennium Earl, were always lying through their teeth.
Real life was on the streets where people argued over the price of food. It was in the crowded pub in the middle of the night where old men would quietly chat about their troubles over a pint of beer. But most of all it was here in this steel factory. The sounds, the smell, the sites, the feel of it hit him in unrelenting waves of desperate, filthy reality. He paused for a moment to breath in the heavy, sooty air. Despite the horribleness of it all, Neah wouldn't have the world any other way.
At first he just followed the mass of workers filing into the main room of the factory, but as soon as he was inside the doors he ducked out of the line to sneak around the edge of the main room. There were already several men on the floor by the molds. They wore masks to keep the heat of the liquid metal from hitting their faces. Others were prying the beams out of the molds and inspecting them before motioning for other men to carry them away. Neah came across a staircase at the end of the molding station, so he took the opportunity to climb up to see if it would lead to a way past the other stations. Fortunately, it was not the observation deck, otherwise he would have had a lot of explaining to do to the foreman of this section of the factory. It appeared to be a overhead walkway where a few men who worked the pulley systems hung about. Currently there were about five men there all of them large fellows with a penchant for smoking. Neah would hazard to guess that they were all around their mid twenties, which was fairly average for the average factory worker. There was something, though, that was a bit off about them, so he determined it would be best to avoid them if at all possible.
As quietly as possible he began to walk along the overhead walkway in the opposite direction of the pulley operators. All the while he could catch snippets of their conversation. It was something about the boss and there being some kind of meeting today. He didn't really care what Doriano Bianchi could be doing with his ample amounts of free time, so Neah tuned out the rest. As he continued along the way he would occasionally come across other groups of pulley-operators huddled about shooting furtive glances at other groups. Now Neah's interest was starting to arouse, although not much. He had only one goal today, so gossiping workers looking around suspiciously were very low on his list of priorities. Besides, their behavior was starting to remind him of the noble women gossiping at parties, much to his disgust. Neah really hated parties.
When he reached the other end of the walkway he finally caught wind of a bit more useful gossip from a pair of somewhat older looking men who appeared to be taking a- probably uncalled for- break. They looked at Neah as he passed but paid him no mind after the young Noah began to descend the stairs. The men probably thought he couldn't hear them over the din of steel being poured or iron ore being sorted into piles of good and unusable bits. However, he was in a way superhuman and a musician, so he could hear quite well.
"Those Camorra are meeting friends of Doriano Bianchi today," muttered one man, a fair-haired fellow with what Neah would call a baby's face except that it was covered in scars. He pulled out a sandwich with worn looking hands and split it, passing the second half to the other man. The second man had very dark, curly hair and a coarse beard. As he took a bite from the sandwich little crumbs got caught in his beard.
"Do they think they can get the upper hand on us that way?" inquired the dark-haired man. He snorted, causing bits of sandwich to fly out of his mouth. Neah did his best to avoid the flying, half-eaten pieces. Factory workers were certainly disgusting. "We already have fifty men working in this factory. Fifty! It will take more than a couple of British bastards to stop us!"
Neah stopped descending the stairs to listen more carefully to their conversation. He was a bit curious as to whom Doriano Bianchi's British friends could be, but he was a bit more preoccupied with these two men, two men who were obviously members of the Cosa Nostra. He'd known that Naples had a reputation for not only great literature and music, but also crime. The young Noah, however, had not been expecting to find a branch of the Cosa Nostra in the middle of Camorra territory. He was surprised that these men were even alive at this moment, for the Camorra practically ran the city. Hardly anything passed by them unnoticed. That was, anything besides the secret war between the Millennium Earl and humanity. The Earl had done business with the Camorra in the past, but he'd never explained to them that their joint business ventures would bring about their demise in the long run.
The fair-haired man jabbed his contemporary in the ribs. "Don't underestimate those Camorra," he hissed. "We don't need them noticing us now after all the care we took in maintaining low profiles. Besides, I don't want to catch those eyes. Did you see those two men?"
"They seemed to be your average elitist sons-of-bitches," commented the dark-haired fellow. He stuffed the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. "There was something a little odd about them, though. I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe we should just corner them outside and persuade them to talk."
"No," retorted the fair-haired man, his voice taking on a dark tone. "There's definitely something off about those bastards. I've seen a lot of weirdoes around here, but today is the first time I've ever seen anyone with golden eyes."
"So that wasn't my mind playing tricks on me?" asked the dark-haired man. He leaned in a bit closer. "They really did have golden eyes?"
"No doubt about it," replied the fair-haired one. "We need to send a runner to the boss with this bit of news. That new kid, Ricci, should be fine. Tell the others to lie low until we get word from him."
"Right," agreed the dark-haired man. With that the two middle-aged gang members parted ways.
Fortunately neither of the men came down the stairs to the spot where Neah now stood frozen. The young Noah gripped the metal rail of the stairs, his mind completely blank. He could feel his heart now beating erratically in his chest, his hands shaking, and his pupils dilating as a result of this bit of news. They were here. Neah hadn't thought that other Noah could possibly show up at the factory. He hadn't heard anyone mention Doriano Bianchi or a trip to Naples at the last family meeting. It was a terrifying twist in this already dangerous plot of his, enough to shake him to his inner core.
In spite of the impending horror now present, he felt exhilarated. There was a certain awful feeling of absolute glee that he could sense stirring in the pit of his stomach. It had been a while since he had felt like this, like he was ready to lash out at the world completely unrestrained. The last time he had gone through this sensation was the day he attacked Sophia and Sanjiv outside of Rome. His Inner Noah had remained rather silent for a long time after that incident, but now he could feel the beast lulling from its slumber in the recesses of his soul. For a brief moment a manic grin spread onto his face, but he soon schooled his countenance. Now was not the time to give into his Noah side. He was going to have to warn the others.
But then his plans would go to waste. A full half year of planning for this one day, all gone to waste just because of the presence of two other Noah. Neah clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He wanted to throw something to relieve this bout of anger, but he couldn't risk drawing attention right now.
The Inner Noah began to titter, "This is pathetic. I know you. I can see the rage that you're feeling inside, having those bastards here just to mess up your plans."
Neah turned on his heels and began to walk back up the stairs, trying very hard not to notice his now very vocal Inner Noah. He was going to have to alert the others to the change in the situation and get them out of the factory. It would be the right thing to do.
"The right thing?" laughed his Inner Noah. The voice in his head wheezed as it laughed harder. "The right thing is to stop them, to continue with your plan! You know what they're trying to do. You know that they are a disgrace to the name of Noah. They're just a bunch of idiots being strung out like marionettes by the Millennium Earl, all for some impossible, selfish desire. Now turn around and keep going! They don't know that you are here, and they never have to find out."
During this speech Neah had stopped walking up the stairs. He knew it was foolish to listen to the Inner Noah, for the only thing they'd ever agreed about was that the Millennium Earl had to be taken down. The Inner Noah was a monster, something so different from himself that was only set upon the destruction of the world. Yet the Inner Noah was also a human voice. It was the voice of a man long gone and turned to dust. Perhaps even the Inner Noah felt that what the Clan was attempting to do was wrong. Maybe it, too, had human emotions.
Neah turned around and ran down the stairs. He still had some time before it would become imperative to tell the others about the Inner Noah. Plus, if they were just meeting the Camorra, it was likely that it was just a business transaction. Whoever was representing the Clan of Noah would most likely stay in one room the entire time and leave as soon as they received what they'd come to retrieve. They would have no interest in seeking out possible intruders who weren't even connected to the Black Order.
Neah Walker dodged several other workers carrying large boxes between workbenches, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the foreman. Luckily the man either didn't notice him or didn't seem to care. He didn't notice the static in his ear as he exited the main room. If he had, then maybe he would have turned around.
oOo
Allen tried very hard to look displeased with his comment, but Sanjiv could see the young akuma glowing with pride. It had probably been a long time since anyone had last told the kid that he was important. He readied his pen as Allen took a deep breath. "Well, I think it was about seven years ago," began the akuma. "I lost track because, well, I didn't think that time mattered for me anymore. My brother and I had been living on the streets for about four years at that point."
"This was in London, correct?" asked Sanjiv. He wanted to be as accurate as possible, for he was certain that Bookman would want to read this entry.
"Yes," huffed the kid in annoyance. He leaned his head against his arm, but his elbow slid on the badly polished table, knocking into the radio. Allen righted the radio with a cheeky smile before continuing. "And before you ask, I don't remember where exactly it was in London. My brother and I moved all the time because the constables would've carted us off if we hadn't."
"Right," commented Sanjiv. It was a shame, but not entirely unexpected. Most of the people that Bookman took an interest in were wanderers who could only give him a vague sense of the area from whence they came. With the way the world was developing Sanjiv doubted that he'd meet many stationary people ever again. He looked up at the kid to show he was ready to go on.
Allen bit his lip before continuing. "Everything had been going fine. Sure, we didn't have a place to live or much to eat, but we were able to make it from one day to the next. Winter was generally a hard time, but sometimes cooks at big restaurants would be generous and give us extra scraps if we came to the back door. Plus, the gentry would come in from the countryside and when the gentry came there was always money."
"You were a pickpocket," stated Sanjiv, raising an eyebrow.
The kid rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, when you don't have many skills there really is nothing else that you can do," he retorted. "At first it was only keeping things that they dropped and selling it to a pawn shop. You wouldn't believe how much a clean handkerchief fetches! Then I started taking wallets 'cause the leather fetches even more than the handkerchiefs did. I never stole a wallet from a family, though. Only old wealthy men."
"Sounds like a lucrative business," remarked Sanjiv while flipping a page in his log. "I suppose between your brother and yourself you were doing pretty well."
Allen frowned. "I never told my brother that I was a pickpocket," said the akuma. "He believed that I worked for a rat catcher. Allen was too little to work at that time, so I'd leave him inside one of the pawn shops that I frequented. The lady who worked there was very fond of him, and her husband was lenient as long as I brought in a good hull. It could get kind of bad if there was a slow day. He threw us out for a week once because I didn't bring anything in one day. But he took us back, so it was all okay."
"How kind of him," quipped the young Bookman dryly. He still didn't understand from where the mentality of every man being for himself came. It seemed to be a new concept developing in the cities of Great Britain, while out in the villages people would take care of children even if they were not their own. Sanjiv could remember frequently staying in the homes of other member of the Bookmen when he was much younger.
"I know," responded the kid, rolling his eyes. "People are so kind… only if you have something they want, though. As I was saying, we were fine. One day, however, I made a mistake."
"A mistake," repeated Sanjiv. "What kind of a mistake?"
"I stole a wallet belonging to a well-dressed gentleman who looked to be in his mid-fifties," explained Allen. He bit his lip again. "There must have been at least six hundred pounds inside. I thought that I'd hit the jackpot. The only odd part about it was that the wallet didn't belong to the gentleman. There was a family picture inside the wallet with a young couple and a baby. If I'd thought more about it back then, then maybe I would've thought about taking it to the police… But I didn't. Like always I took the money and sold the wallet to the owner of the pawn shop. That night I bought roasted chestnuts for my brother as a treat- I guess it must have been close to Christmas time. Anyhow there was suddenly a boy running down the street shouting that some people had been murdered. We went to check it out with everyone else on the street."
"That figures," muttered Sanjiv. People did seem to have an uncanny draw towards the grotesque. "Was it the people in that picture?"
"No," replied Allen. "It was the couple who owned the pawn shop. My brother started to cry, so I led him away from the scene. However, a constable stopped us on the way down the street because some lady had told him that she'd seen my brother hanging about. He wanted to ask him if we'd seen any suspicious characters hanging about the pawn shop that day. I allowed the officer to take him aside for questioning. While I was waiting, someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me off down a dark alleyway. I thought it might be a damn chimney sweep or a kidnapper, but the man was wearing gloves."
"It was the gentleman from earlier," said the young Bookman, again flipping a page.
A shocked look came over the kid's face. "How did you know?" questioned Allen.
"What other well-dressed gentleman would've dragged you off from a crime scene?" inquired Sanjiv. "He probably was a thief who murdered the man in the picture in order to get his wallet and whatever cash might be inside. But it wasn't just the man in that picture. He'd mugged several other people, thus accumulating six hundred pounds. However, you got in the way and stole the evidence of his crime. He knew the police would first check pawn shops for the dead man's wallet, so he had to get it back. The murderer followed you to the pawn shop and waited until the cover of darkness to murder the owner and his wife. He then retrieved the wallet and saw that everything inside had been taken out. That's when he went after you, right?"
"Yes," responded the kid, looking stunned. "He took me down to the banks of the Thames and then emptied my pockets. When he finished, he took out a knife. I could see the blood on the blade from the way the moonlight hit it. After that, things became very fuzzy. I think I tried to run away, but I didn't make it. The man killed me and dumped my body into the river."
"I see," replied Sanjiv. His hand shook a bit as he took the last part down. "How long do you suppose it had been before, well-"
"Before I was turned into an akuma?" inquired Allen. His eyes seemed to focus on the wall ahead of him. "It can't have been too long. I mean, my brother's body looks the same as it did the day I died. There was holly strung over doors and on lamp posts when I came to. I remember my brother just standing there and looking at me with tears in his eyes. He looked so happy. For a minute I thought I'd miraculously survived, but then I saw my hands. They were metallic and looked like blades attached to rod-like arms. Then I saw him."
"The Millennium Earl?" asked Sanjiv.
"Yes," said the kid, nodding vigorously. "He stood there smiling at me like some weird-ass clown. If my brother hadn't been there I would've thought that I'd landed in Hell. My brother started running up towards me, probably to give me a hug, but then the Millennium Earl ordered me to kill him. I couldn't even resist the order and not a minute later my brother lay dead on the ground, strangled by my own hands."
Allen stopped talking for a minute and quivered in his seat. For that brief moment, Sanjiv could see just how young and scared the kid probably felt both then and now. He decided to spare the kid from describing the process of putting his little brother's body on like it was any set of clothes. Bookman already had several dozen entries about people turning their loved ones into akuma. "So you were then an akuma?" questioned Sanjiv.
"Well, that's what the Millennium Earl told me after, well, the process was complete," stated Allen. "After checking to see that I was in working order he told me to venture out and kill as many humans as possible. So that's what I did. I first stayed in the area around London, but then I grew tired of the whole sneaking up on people in dark alleys routine. That's when I started travelling the world. It allowed me to follow the Earl's orders while also doing what I wanted to do. Sometimes I'd just stop in one town to check out a local festival and then move on to the next one and completely destroy it. In the back of my mind I thought that it was a bit weird, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to be sad. I suppose that's what it means to be an akuma. I saw the entirety of Europe by living this way. One time I even ventured all the way to the east coast of China. I really liked travelling because that way I could be alone and not always killing humans or being attacked by exorcists. It's the ones that stick around inhabited areas that die first. Most akuma don't seem to realize this because their desire to destroy overcomes any mental capacity they once possessed. That's probably the only reason that I remained sane that entire time."
"That seems like a logical explanation," admitted Sanjiv, writing down the last bits of the tale. "It was about ten months ago that you were caught by Neah and Sophia."
"That's right," stated Allen. "You know the rest of the story already. Well, the rest up to this point."
Sanjiv nodded in agreement and then turned to a fresh page. It wouldn't do to have the results of today's events running in with the kid's story. "What do you think about this all?" he inquired out of curiosity. The young Bookman was well aware that Allen had not been for Neah's plan in any aspect when they first met. He could clearly recall the akuma writhing in his spot tied up to a chair while cussing Neah out. However, Allen had become much less… violent, if that was the word for it. The kid didn't look at them all in suspicion as he once did, and the distance he'd once maintained from the group had slowly become negligible.
Sanjiv couldn't help but notice that it was the same for himself.
"Do you mean this whole infiltration plan?" asked Allen. He shrugged. "I've seen better infiltrations, but this one is pretty decent considering its Neah's first try. Oh, but you were probably thinking about why I'm still tagging along when there's nothing stopping me from standing up and walking out of this café. That's a bit harder to describe. I feel a drive to go outside and just kill everyone-"
"How pleasant," said Sanjiv under his breath.
"-but nothing would please me more than to see the Millennium Earl dead," explained the kid. There was a hard glint in his eyes- not the red sheen of an akuma- that spoke to the young Bookman of some inner spirit in the kid that had yet to be corrupted by the Dark Matter. "I might respond to him, but that doesn't mean that I'm happy as an akuma. It pisses me off thinking that the Earl believes he can just waltz around and toy with the souls of the dead. I don't think he has even truly seen the soul of an akuma. If he could, if everyone could, then maybe people would understand how an akuma truly feels. We follow the Earl, but it's a path full of pain. We walk along it hating him every step of the way."
Sanjiv contemplated this last bit. From what he could recall he couldn't remember any of the Clan of Noah mentioning the souls of akuma. He also had yet to read anything about the Order addressing this matter, too. It appeared as if both sides agreed on one fact: akuma were tools used by the Millennium Earl in his great war. This assumption was so very naïve and so very human. He could picture this conversation setting Bookman off on a speech about the selfish designs of humans and how these designs would eventually destroy them. The young Bookman wasn't certain if this would apply for all humans, though. Most of them weren't even aware of the existence of akuma.
He was broken out of his train of thought by the sound of static coming from the radio. Someone was trying to transmit a message but it wasn't getting through. Sanjiv began adjusting knobs and when this didn't work he opened the control panel. At first there didn't appear to be anything wrong but a second glance revealed to him a tiny loose wire. The young Bookman reached into the bag he'd used to carry the radio this morning and pulled out a small toolkit Cross had prepared for him. Within a minute he had procured a pair of tweezers and fixed the wire. The static became louder for a moment, so he adjusted a few knobs until it stopped. Finally he heard noise, a lot of noise. From what he could tell there were several men arguing in the background, but he couldn't ascertain the subject. Sanjiv heard something that sounded like the word 'money' and 'boss', so he supposed it was an argument over a transaction.
Allen leaned across the table to speak into the transceiver, but the young Bookman held up a hand to silence him. The kid huffed and leaned back into his seat. Hesitantly Sanjiv began to speak softly. "This is Sanjiv. Who is this?"
"Sanjiv!" exclaimed Sophia softly. She sounded a bit shaky and extremely relieved. "Thank God! I thought my transceiver had stopped working."
"No, it was just a problem with the main receiver," explained the young Bookman. He turned off the switches for the others. It wouldn't do them any good to be making extra noise while sneaking around. "What has happened? You sound a bit off."
"I've run into a problem in warehouse one," she whispered. Sanjiv turned up the volume on the radio so as to hear her better. "There's a member of the Camorra in here arguing with Tykki Mikk."
"Tykki Mikk is there?" asked Sanjiv. He didn't betray it in his face or in his voice, but for once he was completely shocked. Somehow a member of the Clan of Noah had snuck past all of Neah's preparations. His next question adhered to his training to obtain as much factual information as possible, but it was born much more out of concern. "Is anyone else there?"
"He brought Fiidora with him," she replied. "He's been looking around the place while Tykki negotiated with the Camorra representative. I've had to move a couple times, but I'm right next to a wall now. I don't know for how long I'll be able to avoid him."
The kid bit his lip and looked up at Sanjiv with big eyes full of concern. It was a very normal look for a child, but coming from an akuma it seemed totally bizarre. Sanjiv took a deep breath before speaking again. "Try to remain calm and keep moving if possible," he stated. "I turned off the other transmitters earlier, but I'm going to turn them on now."
"Alright," responded Sophia. The arguing in the background seemed to die down a bit. "I'm going to have to stop talking for a bit. They're not making enough noise now to cover up the conversation."
"Right," agreed Sanjiv. "I'm going to have to break the connection with your transmitter for a bit. It will only take a few minutes and then I'll add you back onto the wavelength."
"Okay," she murmured, a slight hint of fear present in her voice. The young Bookman couldn't blame her for this fear, for she was right in the middle of the lion's den. "Please hurry."
With that said Sanjiv flipped a switch to turn off the connection to Sophia's transmitter. "How did this all happen?" muttered the young Bookman to himself as he flipped the switches to reconnect the others to the wavelength. "I know I didn't drop it at all, and it was working perfectly fine during the test."
The kid suddenly gasped. "I-I might have-" he began. He began fidgeting nervously. "I'm so, so sorry, but earlier I-"
Then Sanjiv remembered the elbow sliding across the table. Normally something small like that shouldn't have caused any harm, but Allen was an akuma. Akuma had metal bones, bones that would provide more force when accidentally knocking a radio against a wall. "I know," interrupted the young Bookman. He reconnected the loose wires behind the switches and closed the control panel once more. "Hello Cross? Neah? Mana?"
"Cross here," responded the scientist relatively quickly.
"I hear you as well," said Mana. He gave a little chuckle. "Everything is clear here. For a moment I was worried, for you all were being awfully quiet."
"There was a slight accident on this end," replied Sanjiv. The kid looked down at the table, his cheeks flushing in shame. "Everything is fine here now. Are you there Neah?"
There was no reply. He heard someone take a sharp intake of breath. "Come on, Neah," stated Mana, his voice anxious. "Say something!"
"You didn't ask about Sophia," noted Cross. "Is something the matter?"
"Yes," answered Sanjiv frankly. There was no point in lying to the others. "We have a bit of a situation in Warehouse One. Tykki Mykk and Fiidora showed up to negotiate with a gang member."
"What?!" exclaimed Mana. The juggler sounded terrified.
"Do they know that she's in there?" asked Cross shakily. Sanjiv could tell that the scientist had stopped moving, probably out of shock.
"Not that I'm aware of," replied the young Bookman. "Now if we're lucky they might duck out long enough to allow her to escape."
"What are the chances of that?" questioned Cross.
"Very slim," admitted Sanjiv. His throat suddenly felt very dry, although he didn't know why. "They probably want to take whatever is in there with them today."
"Is it the akuma?" inquired Mana. The usual mirth had vanished completely from his voice and was replaced by a cool, biting exterior hiding somewhat suppressed panic. It reminded Sanjiv very much of the day in Paris when he'd caught up with Mana after the explosion. This voice according to the few who remembered the younger Mana Walker was the only connection to his past as a member of the Clan of Noah. The young Bookman wasn't sure whether it was a good or a bad thing.
"I don't believe so," responded Sanjiv. He took a sip of tea to relieve the dry sensation in his throat. "Sophia didn't mention any akuma. How will you two proceed?"
"I'm heading over to Warehouse One," said Cross.
"Shouldn't we wait for Neah before making any decisions?" asked Mana. "It's his plan after all."
Sanjiv heard something that sounded like a door opening. "Nothing in Warehouse Two," determined Cross after a brief scan. "You can tell Neah that if he ever decides to join the conversation."
"Sure," remarked the young Bookman, taking another sip of tea. The dryness was still present even after this second mouthful. "I told Sophia that I'd turn her transmitter back on, so you two will have to be quiet otherwise you won't be doing her any favors."
"Right," they chorused.
Before Sanijv flipped on Sophia's transmitter, he heard Mana speak again. "Has Neah said anything since he left Cross and Sophia?" inquired the juggler.
"Not a word," answered Sanjiv. "I checked everything on the radio and there aren't any other problems. If he can't hear us, then there's an issue with his transmitter."
"That makes sense," mumbled Mana. The juggler remained silent for a couple minutes, so the young Bookman moved once again to turn on the last transmitter. However, he was interrupted again. "What should I do? The Clan already got past me, so is there really any point to staying in this piazza?"
"That's up to you to decide," responded Sanjiv. "You could stay there like Neah told you to, check on your brother, or go help Sophia like Cross did. Of course, running away is also an option, even if the others would prefer that you did not. I won't deny it, though. Like you said, there really is little purpose in remaining in the piazza."
"Thanks for the advice," sighed Mana. "I suppose you ought to turn Sophia's transmitter back on, so I'll stop bothering you."
The young Bookman waited a couple minutes just to make sure that Mana wasn't going to talk again before flipping the switch for Sophia's transmitter. He didn't hear anything signifying that she was in danger, and the fact that her transmitter was still receiving a signal reassured him that she was still hidden for the meantime. Allen stared the radio down with a death glare like it would prevent it from transmitting any bad news. Uneasily Sanjiv sat back and started recording the current events, his free hand twitching a bit as he wrote.
oOo
He was completely useless. The one thing he'd been told to do, and he'd blown it. Granted, Mana hadn't seen any coaches go by this morning, and he'd been extremely vigilant. He knew exactly how many men had passed him wearing top hats- thirty-nine- and how many good looking girls had passed by and scoffed when the clown gave them a cheery wave- twelve and twelve respectively. Mana hadn't been very lucky in that aspect.
Still, he couldn't fathom how one, let alone two Noah could have passed him without him noticing. They certainly would have been the first people to catch his eyes if they'd gone through the piazza, even if they'd been covered in soot like the rest of the populace. Tykki and Fiidora must have come by some other avenue. That was the only possible explanation. It brought to question, though, just how they'd managed it. Mana didn't think that they would've used the Ark. The Earl treasured the Ark too much to let any mere human see it. The Ark…
They must have come by boat. Somehow Tykki and Fiidora had gotten on a boat close enough to the city to arrive today and go directly to the factory. He knew that Naples was a port city, but he hadn't expected the Clan of Noah to actually utilize human forms of transportation, especially something as slow- and what they no doubt saw as primitive- as a boat. Mana wasn't certain of all the technicalities, yet he was certain that they must have come by sea.
This realization did little to help the situation, for it still left the dilemma of what he should do now. Sanjiv had agreed- a first for him- that there was no point to remain in the piazza. Mana knew all his options, for the young Bookman had laid them out in front of him. All that was left was for him to choose an option. Instinct told him to run away; it was what he was good at. Ever since he had left Walker Manor he'd been running. At first, it had been tiresome and he couldn't see the point of it. He'd been a lord before, and even though he had lacked in socialization as compared to other children of his status at the same age, Mana had been used to being special. His special 'gifts' as a Noah had also made him surer of himself. Back then there had been nothing to fear, and it went completely against his nature to keep his head down like Cross had told him many times. Everything had changed, though, after Pierrot had died. It had only taken one moment for Mana to realize that he was not safe anymore. The only way to stay safe in this world where he now lived was to run. And so he kept running from that point on.
Of course there were a few times he wouldn't run. He hadn't run away from Cross- although he fully intended to- when his friend had said he'd joined the Black Order. Mana also had never run from Neah. He'd even gone to meet his brother a year and a half ago outside of Berlin, even though Neah could have easily killed him right there. It was completely foolhardy for him to do so, and he still wasn't exactly sure why he'd risked his life in such a manner. The juggler just couldn't bring himself to run away from his brother. He'd already lost Rory and their mother. Mana would always keep his eyes open for any sight of Rory, but in the meantime he had Neah. He would protect Neah with everything he had.
The only way to protect his brother now would be to dive right into the fray. It was a very unfortunate circumstance, one he was definitely not looking forward to, but Mana Walker would not run away from his friends or family. He had stood up to Neah before when he was a child. Right now he'd have to muster up what little courage he had and prepare for battle. Mana took off his wig and clown nose. He then took out a rag and used water from a nearby fountain to clean off his face. There was a little bit of black greasepaint left in his bag, so Mana drew a mustache on his face- just as a precaution. Satisfied with his work, the juggler ran out of the piazza towards the factory and what he believed to be certain death.
Perhaps if he'd turned around for a moment he would have noticed the black coach pull up into the square, a black coach bearing a rose cross on each door in silver paint. A pale hand drew aside a curtain to look out at the square. This person looked around the piazza, eyes locking onto the juggler's raven hair whipping behind him in the breeze, but the observer soon looked away. For once, Mana Walker truly had missed something extremely important.
oOo
About ten minutes after Doriano Bianchi left the warehouse another man came in to take his place. Signor Bonaducci was one of the foremen of the factory and in charge of personel from what Sophia could recall from earlier. She'd heard the foreman in front of the factory mention the man when Neah, Cross, and herself presented their papers. Tykki immediately snuffed out his cigarette and greeted the man with his typical charismatic drawl. "Good morning, Signor Bonaducci."
"I'd say it's hardly a good morning," grumbled the man. He had a deep bass voice that rasped a bit as he spoke. From the spot where she currently sat hidden, Sophia could see Tykki, Fiidora, and Signor Bonaducci reflected in the metal of one of the many shelving units in the warehouse. Signor Bonaducci's appearance matched perfectly with his voice: disheveled brown hair sticking out from under a cap matching the five o'clock shadow on the man's face; soot-stained clothing fitting tightly to his muscular frame; dark eyes narrowed as he sized up the two lords; and dry, cracked skin covering his hands. He cracked his knuckles before speaking again. "You were supposed to come tomorrow."
"Well, a little bird told us that the shipment had come in early," replied Tykki with a grin. "Some of you Camorra just try too hard to please us. Anyhow, the Earl is in a bit of a rush right now, so I thought it'd be best to finish this as quickly as possible. We have a skiff tied up to Loading Dock E, but we'll need to borrow a few of your men to move the oil."
From what Sophia could recall, the Camorra was a rather notorious gang in Naples. Sanjiv said that they were involved in many different pursuits, but she hadn't thought that the steel industry would be one of them.
"That will cost you more," responded Signor Bonaducci. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, which made his biceps bulge further in the tight shirt he wore.
Tykki frowned at the man. "Well, that seems hardly fair," he sighed. Tykki leaned on a walking stick he carried. "I thought loading was included in the price."
"No, it isn't," retorted the foreman. "Only the oil and the smuggling were included. If you're not willing to pay more, then carry the barrels yourself."
The Noah of Pleasure looked upon Signor Bonaducci in disgust. "But that's common work!" complained Tykki Mikk. He took a step back and put his weight on his back leg. "I could hardly lift one of those barrels let alone all one hundred of them."
Sophia could imagine Cross barking at this claim. He would have every right, for Tykki being weak was just about as real as Father Christmas. She supposed it was to go with the Clan's made up life. There weren't many aristocrats who could carry one hundred barrels filled with oil outside to a ship that was probably docked a good distance from the factory, and all of this without breaking a sweat.
The foreman smirked, most likely thinking that he had the upper hand, and walked forward. "Then do we have a deal? 200 ducats and I'll get the men to move them during lunch."
"That's awfully expensive," groaned Tykki. He stuck his hand in front of his mouth in a mock look of surprise. Fiidora rolled his eyes and began to wander off, inspecting the barrels and other items in the warehouse. When he started wandering her way, Sophia did her best not to shake or make any noise at all. He was about to poke his head into aisle where she was hiding, when Tykki spoke again. "Wouldn't you say so, Fiidora?"
While Fiidora turned around to agreed with Tykki, she scooted as silently as possible further into the labyrinth of crates and barrels. Finding a new crate to hide behind a good five meters farther away from the men she stopped, afraid that her heartbeat- now more rapid than before- would give her away. Sophia did her best to keep herself from shaking as she sat and waited.
"By no means are we poor," laughed Tykki. His cane scraped against the floor as he lifted it from the ground. "We just believe in, well, fair prices. Of course we won't cheat you from your due pay, but 200 ducats? That seems a bit too high for me. What would that bring us to now? 500 ducats? The Millennium Earl certainly wouldn't be happy to hear this."
"Well, that's too bad," huffed Signor Bonaducci. "Perhaps next time your Earl should be a bit more specific about what he wants from the beginning. You can take it or leave it."
As they continued to bicker, Fiidora began to wander about once again like a lone vulture. Like the first time she waited for him to become distracted before moving to a hopefully safer spot. Unfortunately, she had to stop between a crate and the far right wall since Fiidora began to walk down an aisle just parallel of this nook. It was one of the few times that she was glad that she wasn't tall, although this really wasn't the time to be proud of her very average height. The argument grew louder and louder to a point where Sophia wouldn't have been surprised if the entire factory could hear Tykki and Signor Bonaducci quarrelling. She thought Tykki's argument was rather ridiculous, for she knew that at least Sheril could pay the 500 ducats* that Signor Bonaducci was asking. She'd seen the Noah of Desire spend the equivalent of that much in pounds if not more on a night out with Lulubell. The good thing about the situation was that it allowed her a chance to try and contact the others.
Sophia was a bit concerned by the amount of static coming from her transmitter, but it was better than the silence from earlier. Finally it cleared up and a voice called out quietly, "This is Sanjiv. Who is this?"
"Sanjiv!" cried out Sophia shakily, gripping her pendent tightly. Her raging heartbeat calmed a little at the sound of his voice. "Thank God! I thought my transceiver had stopped working."
"No, it was just a problem with the main receiver," said the young Bookman. A couple clicks sounded in the background through the transceiver, but she paid them no mind. "What has happened? You sound a bit off."
"I've run into a problem in warehouse one," she mumbled. Sophia looked around to make sure Fiidora wasn't anywhere close by before continuing. "There's a member of the Camorra in here arguing with Tykki Mikk."
"Tykki Mikk is there?" asked Sanjiv. There was something odd about his tone, almost as if the young Bookman was concerned. "Is anyone else there?"
"He brought Fiidora with him," she replied. "He's been looking around the place while Tykki negotiated with the Camorra representative. I've had to move a couple times, but I'm right next to a wall now. I don't know for how long I'll be able to avoid him."
There was a pause at the other end. She heard Sanjiv breathe deeply over the transceiver. Yes, he definitely sounded tense, but before she could ask about it he spoke again. "Try to remain calm and keep moving if possible," he stated. "I turned off the other transmitters earlier, but I'm going to turn them on now."
She gripped the pendent-turned-transceiver even tighter. "Alright," responded Sophia. There was a break in the argument behind her. Whether it was because they'd finally agreed on a price or were just mulling in their own thoughts, she wasn't certain. However, it did seem best for her to cut off the exchange. "I'm going to have to stop talking for a bit. They're not making enough noise now to cover up the conversation."
"Right," responded Sanjiv. "I'm going to have to break the connection with your transmitter for a bit. It will only take a few minutes and then I'll add you back onto the wavelength."
"Okay," she murmured, her voice quivering a bit. "Please hurry."
The line became silent, letting her know that Sanjiv had cut it off. Silence sat heavily over the room for a few minutes before someone spoke again.
"Well, if we're going to have to pay you 500 ducats, you should at least move the barrels now," spat Tykki Mikk bitterly. Apparently Signor Bonaducci had won in this case, although Sophia wouldn't be surprised if Tykki came back some day for revenge on the foreman.
"I'd have to take men off their shifts, and by then those Cosa Nostra bastards will have noticed that something is up," deflected the foreman simply.
"You have a pest problem?" inquired Fiidora, genuinely interested for the first time that day.
"There are spies in the factory associated with the Cosa Nostra," elaborated Signor Bonaducci. He accented each word with a movement of his hands. "They've been far too interested in the deal and yourselves, sirs. We brought in additional Camorra members today in preparation of taking them out tonight. It was the perfect plan! We had a mole in their ranks ready to lead us to their headquarters tonight, but you had to show up early! Who knows what they'll do once they find out about this deal?"
"Does it affect us?" asked Tykki flatly.
"They'd be able to sell information on your purchase to anyone who paid for it," said the foreman, "even the Black Order."
"Shit," murmured Tykki, hitting his cane against the floor. "How many of them are there?"
"From what my spy had said, this cell has at least seventy-five members, fourty-nine of which are employees in the factory," elaborated Signor Bonaducci.
"Make that forty-eight," interrupted Fiidora. Even at a distance of fifteen meters from the Noah of Corrosion Sophia could feel the malicious air coming off of him.
"Forty- eight?" snickered Tykki Mikk. "Did you take care of one of them earlier, Fiidora? You should have told me!"
"No," responded Fiidora, "but we certainly have a pest problem around here…"
The three men stopped talking and separated to search the warehouse. It took all of her willpower to keep herself from gasping. All three men wove through the labyrinth of the warehouse checking each nook and cranny for the 'pest' Fiidora had mentioned. Somehow the Noah must have become aware of her presence. Maybe it had been during the conversation with Sanjiv. Neah seemed to have very good hearing, so she wouldn't doubt that the other Noah were the same in that manner. She would have to keep her mouth shut if- when- they found her.
But she couldn't let them find her. If they did, then they'd recognize her without a doubt. Then not only would she be in danger, but they would certainly know what Neah had done. They'd go searching for him then. There was also the chance that Sanjiv and Bookman would come under fire, as well. Both of them had spent time at Walker Manor before, and Sanjiv was definitely closer to Neah than any other member of the Clan of Noah. They would probably try to kill Sanjiv and Bookman for this, too. And then Allen wouldn't have someone to control him when his desire to kill became too great. He'd probably revert back to his former life or isolate himself until he died. Mana's heart would be broken by loss of his little brother and his other friends. He'd probably never want to smile again, and she didn't even want to imagine a world where Mana would never smile. Then there was Cross… Her best friend would never forgive himself. Cross would survive, that much she was certain of, but he'd never exactly be Cross again. Just like when he stopped being Gitano when he'd left Walker Manor, he would cease to be Cross and move off in some entirely new direction. Mana and he would then wander forever. Sophia just couldn't let this happen to her friends.
As Fiidora came closer and closer to the crate where she hid, Sophia prepared herself. She was going to have to fight her way out. This would be the first time she'd seriously be using Innocence to fight a Noah, and she couldn't afford to mess up. All she simply needed to do was control them long enough so that she could get out without them seeing her. She'd probably only be able to control one of them at a time, for she hadn't tried multiple possessions before. Then she'd have to use the one she caught to distract the others. It definitely wouldn't be an easy task, but hopefully the confusion would be enough of a cover to escape…
Who was she kidding? They were going to see her for at least a second. She was just going to have to be faster than all of them.
Fiidora stopped in front of the crate that hid her. She held her breath, and began mustering as much energy as she could in preparation of synchronizing with her Innocence. As he bent forward to look forward, though, there came a loud noise from outside. The Noah of Corrosion looked down the aisle and began walking away towards the door. Tykki and Signor Bonaducci met him by the door.
"What's that noise?" inquired Fiidora.
One of them opened the door, allowing the noise to come through more clearly. "Merda!" cursed Signor Bonaducci. "A riot now?! Excuse me, sirs, but I'm going to have to go take care of this. If you'll just wait here-"
"We're going to move the boat," stated Tykki. "As soon as we return we'll pay you. Hopefully this riot should free up some of your associates temporarily."
"It should," replied the foreman. Sophia heard him walk off down the hall.
"We're leaving now?" asked Fiidora furiously. "But what about-"
"Look, we don't have time to search the entire factory right now," retorted Tykki, hitting his cane against the ground for emphasis. "Maybe there's someone in the warehouse, but it could also be someone out at that rally. Plus, I've got a weird feeling about this place."
"Then we should look for whatever it is!" exclaimed the Noah of Corrosion. He began to kick the crates closest to the door. "This feeling is driving me crazy! What the hell is it?!"
Sophia heard something click. "Alright, I've locked the door from the outside," grumbled Tykki Mikk. "No one will be able to get out of here without moving some of these crates to reach those windows up above. Are you happy now?"
"Fine," consented Fiidora, "but I'm checking every square centimeter of this warehouse when we return."
"Do as you wish," sighed Tykki in exasperation. "For now, let's go."
Sophia heard the ever odd sound of Tykki phasing through a wall. He'd only ever done that a handful of times in front of her, mostly to scare her out of her wits. One time, however, he had phased his head through the door of her room in the Camelot's Manor. It had been the day after Rhian had passed, and she'd been packing her things in preparation of moving to Walker Manor to take over caring for Lady Arienne. When her back was turned Tykki had phased his head through the wall and reminded her that no matter where she was, he could still check in on her for his brother and his niece. It had shaken her quite terribly, and she'd been most glad when Neah- albeit reluctantly- had come to fetch her in the cart. Even though she'd been away from the other Noah for over half a year, she still felt the need to wait just to make certain that Tykki and Fiidora were gone. Of course, it wouldn't matter much, for she still wouldn't be able to escape. Since Tykki had locked the door she was pretty well stuck, and climbing out of the window would only put them on her trail like bloodhounds. Her best shot would be for Signor Bonaducci to return first and unlock the door. Then she could sneak out or in the worst case scenario attempt to blend in temporarily with any workers he brought with him. Despite how dangerous she knew the Camorra was, Sophia knew that they would be much more merciful than the Clan of Noah.
From the lack of any sound, she was pretty certain the coast was clear. Sophia finally let out a normal breath. The next minute, though, she wished she hadn't. At the sound of her breath someone had slammed their hands down on the crate in front of her. She almost let out a squeak of terror, trying desperately to remember if Tykki could phase other people through walls. If he couldn't, then this was probably Fiidora, which would be a terrible circumstance. The young girl prepared herself for a bitter fight, taking up the best squatting stance that she could remember from Sanjiv's lessons. Instead of smashing the crate to bits, though, her assailant merely asked one question. "Sophia?"
Finally, I have finished this chapter! Sorry it took so long. Anyhow, who do you think our mystery assailant is? Please review!