There was a small park, not too far from the SRC, that some of the scientists would go to relax and unwind slightly when they needed to get away from work for a while. It was also surrounded by enough cameras to attend a premiere. So when Obake stumbled into it just after three in the morning, a few alarm bells rang.
A charming little fountain was near the middle of the green area with benches set along each path leading up to it. Struggling to walk into a straight line, the wounded man gently folded into a bench with blood slowly soaking through fresh dressings and occasionally dripping from his sling. Nobody was in the park at that time of night. It was too late for the partiers going out, too early for the early risers, and too remote from most criminals to bother with. Were it not for the cameras, it would have been a perfect place for Obake to come for solace. Instead, he was using it for something different.
Somebody had planted lavender nearby and clearly tended to the flowers because their smell filled the air. Gentle bubbling from the fountain sounded to set a peaceful mood. All effects were lost on the tired figure as it began to gently slide down the curve of the bench while muscles weakened. A meagre attempt to straighten up only served to set a new dribble of blood going down his hand as he kept his attention focused on the surrounding area.
Only a short time after he had arrived, Obake was joined by another person seating on the bench across from him. Suited, unremarkable, an earpiece in the left ear. Dark hair that was thinning at the temples over an expressionless face. "Good evening." A tiny light flashing at the ear indicated that the other figure was talking to somebody other than Obake. It was a clever ruse.
"Not really." Enough painkillers had made putting on a fresh shirt possible but the act had been marred by the blood caking his right arm. New blood, separate from the old wound which was also still not healed. "That took less time than I expected." A twig snapped on the far side of the newcomer. "I hoped that we could have talked alone. Having somebody sneaking up behind me is not what I had anticipated." Almost inaudible considering the misdirection from in front, the tiniest noises coming behind Obake indicated somebody else was behind him.
"Don't take it personally." There wasn't any pretence now that he had clearly figured out what was happening. "We turned off the cameras as well. It's just standard practice."
"Yeah," Damaged flesh and muscle still burned in pain as Obake shifted his right arm. "I understand. That's why I'm here." Nobody in the history of being killed in the park had ever been recorded as turning up specifically to be murdered. Although, nobody exactly kept track of park murders so it might not have been original. "I was hoping to talk a bit first."
Something thin and strong wrapped about his neck and began throttling him hard enough to stop light filtering through to his brain.
"No." It was an ice-cold reply. The only thing colder was when the choking man pulled a knife from his sling and lunged backwards. Wearing body armour protected the massive target of the torso but generally left a small gap right by the neck. It was into this gap that he plunged the knife.
"Still no?" Pointedly putting his knife down, there was no doubt that he genuinely wanted to talk. Especially when an even larger shape appeared behind the other bench.
"Considering how long this will take to clear up already." It was theoretically possible to save the gurgling form on the floor but nobody was running. Human life wasn't high on the list of anyone present. "What exactly did you want to talk about?" Considering that he had thought ahead to bring a knife, he might have also taken the time to prepare other precautions.
"Here." Awkwardly reaching into his breast pocket with the similarly sided hand, he drew out a tiny drive encased inside a small plastic bag. "All the data I stole eight years ago." Tossing the bag across, some blood from his victim flung with it. "Yusei has a copy. That's the original. Untouched... well, unedited since I arrived in Japan."
"And you're just returning this?" Picking up the bag with about as much emotional display as Obake had at passing it across, the tiny chip was examined with a modicum of disinterested curiosity. "Practically untouched?"
"Other than six years embedded in my arm." An eyebrow was raised in his direction. "It was somewhere I couldn't lose it. Probably would have shown up in an autopsy when my body was discovered." Putting it into his arm had been a relatively simple process despite his complete and utter lack of medical training. Getting it back out after several years of proper nourishment and from an already ruined arm was more difficult. It had been difficult to sew back together with every twitch sending bolts of pain through his shoulder hole and the resulting mess was still 'leaking' slightly.
"Intriguing solution." Shaking off the loose blood, it was folded up and tucked away. "Was there anything else?"
"I was hoping that we could come to an... arrangement." Between the incidents in America, investigation by the International Criminal Court and the hostage situation on the boat, there was clearly a paradigm shift underway. Whatever protection that Yusei had been able to provide could no longer be relied on.
"Oh?" No anger had crossed the other face. Nobody had ever turned up to their suicide armed to fight off attackers and then try to make a deal with them. A certain amount of morbid interest was inevitable.
"I know that I've been an irritant to your organisation." Looking at the cooling corpse behind Obake, the Agent said nothing. "In exchange for knowing what Yusei learned, I ask that you at least make kill me painlessly." Leaning back on the bench, the unremarkable man remained silent. Between that silence and the realisation that he was bargaining with an empty hand, Obake was suddenly hoping that the blood would ooze from his shoulder a lot faster.
Once it was clear just who was in charge, the conversation resumed. "What brought on this change of mind? It seems out of character." Irony had maybe never been as accurate as it had been in that statement. "Would it happen to be related to your arm?"
"Being shot for making a point was the last straw." No anger, just boredom and irritation. He could read the situation through to its grisly conclusion. The only question that remained was simple: shallow grave or multiple dismemberments? "Is it too much to ask to make it quick?" Considering that he had murdered four of Agents in America, they would probably want to make an example. It was not an evening that he was looking forward to.
"Let's talk a moment more." Leaning forward on his own bench, the bland face finally showed the faintest spark of emotion in fresh interest. "Who shot you?" From the pattern of the wound, it was clear that it hadn't been inflicted by either a projectile or modified – and usually non-lethal – energy weapon.
"Musume. Shouldn't you have killed me already? Surely Nanashi would caution a more appropriate approach?" There was no reaction for Obake to observe. Without undergoing some dreadful transformation, flash of light or face twisting grin, the unremarkable man resolved from puppet into puppeteer. Realisation dawned beneath the uneven blindfold. "Oh, shit." Then his brain realised who had just heard the instinctive reaction. "My apologies for any inconvenience." When people like Nanashi had the power to reshape countries with a few precise actions, there was no inconvenience beyond having to physically be somewhere. Swearing right in his face had probably also been an unusual experience.
"I was in town for the trial and had a few... other concerns to deal with." Nobody had to mention the potential risks of being noticed or the ways to overcome them with the influx of people. "Call this satisfying my curiosity. You have been quite resilient since first appearing on our radar. Some fairly," A glance flickered to the dead body. "Drastic measures over the years. We didn't even realise you had reached America until after the fact. Why the change of heart?"
"Try spending years trying to pay back the person you thought saved you only to discover they kept you as a pet." Maybe a tad dramatic but it was the only metaphor he could think of that fit. "Throw in the realisation that all the stories are true and days of lies from everyone related. Add being shot just because somebody doesn't like your opinions and it would be enough to make anyone revaluate their choices." Make friends, get betrayed. Trying to express your views, get shot. A perfectly logical argument to ruin a life. No possibility of going home, no chance of creating a new life. No hope, no fear. "Yliaster was right. They were always right. I just didn't realise it until now. My life – for what it could have been – is over." No sadness, no anger. Just empty.
"Maybe so." Waving a hand, the figure behind Nanashi took a symbolic step backwards. If a kill order came, an extra foot of difference would not make a difference. "If you truly believe that Yliaster might be right, consider working for us. You've proven yourself more than capable over the years." Most of them had been spent evading detection on an impressive scale. "Give it a few days. If you still feel this way," Another glance towards the dead body made it clear that an exact replication wasn't necessary. "We can reconsider." This was not unwilling conscription. He was walking into the deal with both eyes open and knew exactly what sorts of dangers and betrayals that he could expect to be told to carry out. "We'll be in touch." Standing up, Nanashi still had that softly flashing earpiece plugged in and Obake wondered the device was just a simple ruse or if he was also talking to someone else.
"Wait." Looking up at his new boss, he wasn't able to smile but new purpose filled Obake. At least a few problems would be eliminated by selling out. "Is there pay? It would be nice to be able to buy my own clothes." A slight twitch indicated the ruined shoulder and stained trousers. Victims of a traffic collision were found with less blood on them.
"That can be arranged. Good evening." With a smile – only a polite one that was still the most genuine Obake had seen in a long time – Nanashi walked away into the darkness, leaving him sitting on the bench with the still living bodyguard and the cooling body of the dead one.
"Do you want help cleaning up?" It was an unimpressive death for an impressive killer. That didn't mitigate the effect of lacking use of one arm and having to dispose of a body. A restrained grunt and jerk of the head told the latest addition to Yliaster that no help was required. Tightening his brace slightly, there was no pleasure on the pale face as he limped away into the night.
Committing to suicide hadn't been a dramatic overture of emotion, just a depressing fact of circumstances. Having a fresh purpose was at least something to do. Working with Yliaster may be a suspended death sentence but at least he was free to live some semblance of a life while working for them.
I tried to avoid the pun but it was inevitable...
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