Clipped Wings
A Clover fanfiction written by: RinoaDestiny
Chapter 2
Day two passed by without incident until it was time for him to create one. 284 was ready – had everything set up for the moment when it came. Just an hour ago, he received a message from his handler, confirming he was at the extraction point. Although smuggling in devices proved difficult, it wasn't impossible and so, he'd managed to sneak in a wafer-thin communication screen. The message not only confirmed the pertinent matter, but also mentioned other things; those would have to wait until their safe return to Azaiea.
His handler wasn't the most patient of men, but could delay gratification if necessary. It was important not to keep him waiting too long. A lesson learned early and painfully – one he tried never repeating again.
Being tense – the job, not what awaited him afterwards – he refocused on his assignment and how it'd end with inevitable death. Anyone could be alive one day and then swiftly gone the next.
None of his targets ever anticipated so untimely a demise.
284 waited until the sky turned orange and pink, descending into blue and purple streaked with gold. Unlike in the entertainment district downtown, the number of people here were few and scattered. Without unwanted attention, he could complete the job and perhaps slip away with ease. Ideal, if so.
Ten minutes to 1900 (he still thought in military time, old habits dying hard), his target showed up. There was a flower in his hand – for the memorial? – and as the old man approached and bent down to place it at the foot of the monument, 284 braced himself, breathed in, and pulled the trigger.
Like tracer fire, the thin laser beam sliced through air, too quick for sound. The target tottered, body collapsing as his head dispersed into red mist. A crimson spray speckled the monument's gray surface, bright in the fading light. The corpse hit the ground, no sound from where 284 stood inside and yet, he thought he heard something.
Letting out his held breath, he took a quick sight through the scope to confirm the kill. No head – the stump bleeding where not cauterized. Withdrawing his rifle, it vanished into the open space between his hands; he gave the main room a rapid once-over. Having thoroughly cleaned it hours before, he was ready for an immediate getaway. Already dressed in his coat (hat stuffed into a pocket), he headed for the door and slipped on his shoes.
His communication device hummed. Checking it, 284 skimmed the message. [Is it done? Confirm.]
[It's done.] Nothing more. From his end, he kept the relationship between him and his handler strictly professional. What the other man desired and got from him was out of his control.
[Good. Get over here.]
As discussed, he was out of the apartment, already following the briefing's approved back route escape. Behind him in the distance was a furor, noise erupting sharp and agitated. Someone had discovered the body. The soldiers must be on their way to investigate this latest disturbance.
Weaving through an intricate network of alleyways, 284 reached the agreed-upon meeting spot. From here, even with the looming edifices nearby, he spotted the Parliamentary Council building. It rose, monolithic, challenging the sky – the tallest structure in the central city. The first time he saw it…
He shivered, unable to suppress it.
"About time."
Startling at his handler's voice – where had he been hiding? – 284 flinched as his arm was seized, the man's grip like a vise. He despised and hated him, had even fought against him in that distant past of his and now? Barus, the Leopard of Azaiea, had complete authority over him and owned him as such. As a captive turned secret asset, there wasn't any recourse for him. He had no rights, except the bare minimum necessary to keep him alive and useful, and the mere fact he lived instead of being in a mass grave.
A sobering fact, often reiterated to him.
"Be on your best behavior," Barus said, menace beneath the light tone he often had. "They're bringing in the top brass tonight."
What for? Only enough time for that question before Barus activated their remote teleportation, destination coordinates unknown to him. Along with the disorienting sensation of being channeled through a narrow path, his former home country disappeared and then Azaiea was before him, stately columns and hanging flags and multiple windows dark with night. Elaborate lights, dangling from high above, threw reflections against panes of glass.
As his vision attuned, details sharpening and his body readjusted to the abrupt change, Barus cursed beside him. His handler didn't sound displeased, just…somewhat thrown off guard. Not many things distressed the other man.
"Right in the goddamn ministry. No wash-up and change of clothes, huh? Must be urgent."
He didn't say anything or react.
"Top brass. Closed door meeting. Must be one hell of a grand surprise they've got planned." Barus shook his head, clicking his teeth and then looked at him. "Got to debrief you too, eh? Gonna go long, you think?" An unpleasant smile, one usually reserved for private moments, appeared on the other man's face. "Delaying my evening plans, the scoundrels," Barus said, speaking about his superiors in a mocking light tone. "Well, you've got nothing tomorrow, so…"
Stay silent. Don't react.
The smile lingered, widening. "Shame 'bout your hair. Always did like it better before." Barus reached out, fingers running through the dyed darkness before his eyes. "Isn't that right, Gingetsu?"
He tensed at the sound of his former name. The other man laughed.
"To think you once cut me to ribbons saving sweet Kazuhiko. So much has changed, hasn't it, hmm?"
From experience, he kept his mouth shut and his face neutral. Always stoic, he fell back on blanking his mind. The mention of Ryuu brought grief, deep-seated and raw. It was the one thing that threatened to undermine his composure. His former name from a former life was the other.
The grip on his arm intensified, bruising even through his shirt. "Well, let's not keep them waiting! Sooner we're outta here, the better!"
Captive though he was, his mind (what was left intact after the neural implant and repeated conditioning) still analyzed subjects with the intensity he had from his former life. As the top brass, deep in discussion, argued the advantages and disadvantages concerning a future assignment of his, 284 realized what Azaiea's next plans were for him and his former home country. Even trodden down, crushed beneath the oppressiveness of both his handler and the government here, he felt growing horror as plans unfolded and became clear.
"The Parliamentary Council must be overthrown. We've eliminated influential figures with important political and financial connections. However, that is only a stopgap. A mere nuisance. If we want them defeated and their country ours –" The speaker's fist swung down hard upon the solid granite table, a resounding thud following. "Eliminate the Wizards. Without them, their country will fall."
"And how can we approach them?" Skepticism in a deep voice, a military officer sitting with his arms folded across a broad chest. "They're high-level psychics, are they not?"
"Agent 284 here from the earlier debriefing used to be in communication with them. One of their former officers." A significant pause. "Recall the girl from years ago. He's the same, if less powerful. The Wizards call them Clovers – she a Four-Leaf and he a Two-Leaf. Powerful enough that his own country suppressed them. Kept some of them in cages. I have a proposal."
"You want him to assassinate these Wizards?"
"They believe him dead. An element of surprise – an unlikely assassin."
Around the table, the other military officials wore expressions of uncertainty. One or two considered, cold calculating gazes fixed upon him. An uncomfortable feeling, compounded by the awareness of his increasing treachery should he commit the acts. Murdering his own former countrymen was already bad enough, but the Council? He could never…found it unforgivable if he agreed.
He spoke, although permission to do so hadn't been given to him. "That's not possible. I…" Barus's grip harder now, painful and he felt the fury of his handler's glare. "I cannot. The Wizards –"
"284!" Across from where he stood, a female major general snapped at him, expression severe. "Remember yourself!"
Rebuked and chastened, he closed his mouth, forcing down flickers of panic. Against the Council? Him? Not only could he not raise weapons against them, but…he stood no chance. Once they became aware of him, his life was forfeit – if not by the Wizards directly, then by their trained black ops soldiers. An ignoble death, perfectly suitable for a traitor and yet, not how he wanted to die.
His wants no longer mattered. Didn't he know that by now?
"Excuse the outburst, Ma'am. He's still fairly new in service."
"After a year and a half, Colonel Barus?"
"Some take longer to break in."
"Well, see to it."
"As you command, Ma'am."
His shoulder still hurt and his arm was sore. Closing his eyes, shutting out the figures in the room and the overhanging lights, 284 tried (always failed) to mentally prepare himself for what happened in the private confines of Barus's house.
Due to his perceived insolence and how it made his handler appear to his superiors, tonight had potential to be one of the worst.
"We're losing the line!"
His heart pounded, drumming deep in his chest. Blood-smeared and spattered, Gingetsu arched his body towards that terrified cry. He was tired – they all were – and they were losing ground.
"Commander!" One of the men from recon, running towards him. "The Azaieans have reinforcements. What action should we take?"
"How many? How far away?"
"Two companies, sir. Less than half an hour from here."
Two companies. His blood seemed to freeze, temperature dropping. One company of theirs had already been annihilated and…another hundred to possibly four hundred hostiles would obliterate them.
"We have to retreat." It was the only action they could take, unless they wanted to suffer complete and total defeat. A tactical withdrawal was out of the question, no longer feasible.
"Sir?"
"I'll send the order. Tell recon to pull out. Leave now before it's too late."
"Sir!"
As the scout left, carrying news no army ever wanted to hear, Gingetsu raised his sword again, hearing laser fire and seeing a cluster of men die in the distance. Screams barraged his ears.
Where was Ryuu? Was he okay?
Everything hurt. Blood on the sheets, the welts on his sides and lower back still oozing. His eye, swollen from the blow earlier, watered as he stared at the ceiling, which blurred and became gray. Time indeterminate, passing excruciatingly slow. Everything ached or was sore and it didn't stop. His jaw, bruised but not broken, twinged with pain. His voice no longer worked, but even if it did, no one listened to him.
Despite knowing it was best to stay still, he thrashed against his assailant. A swift strike to the face cut open his cheek, blood spilling. If he had his hands free… His wrists were bound too tight, disallowing movement. Growling, the man on top of him struck again, cursing.
Barus approached the bed, hand closing around one of his wrists; he startled, unable to move away.
"Problem?"
"What's with him today?" the soldier complained. "Not usually like this."
"Eh, he sometimes gives a bit of a fight. I like it – reminds me of old times." A sly tone to his handler's voice. "Show him who's boss and he'll buckle right down. Heals quick, so don't worry about being rough."
If he had his hands free, he'd…
"I'd check his conditioning, sir." Although the soldier had resumed where he'd left off, his comment was serious. "There's feisty and then there's…this."
Barus chuckled. "He's due for it soon. Go on – enjoy yourself. Plenty for the rest of us."
If he had his voice still, he'd say something. Didn't know what. Overwhelming pain, the soldier atop him vicious, and there were others standing around. Waiting. The ceiling darkened, Barus's grip remained where it was (damn him), and it kept going. He wanted it to stop, to end, to…
"You enjoy this very much, don't you, Gingetsu?" His handler laughed again, thumb brushing against the inside of his wrist. "Don't be too greedy, hmm?"
He wasn't sure how much time had elapsed since it began. All he knew was that Barus's punishment was severe – his favored unit here participating – and healing would take a week, if not more. He couldn't hear displeasure in his handler's voice, but the acts that took place and were happening now expressed Barus's rage beneath his usually cheerful demeanor.
"Did tell you to behave yourself. Only have yourself to blame for the black eye, Gingetsu. Can't make me look bad in front of the higher brass, ya know? You would know, wouldn't you?"
No voice to respond. How to, with a question like that?
On and on it went, the soldiers taking turns. Nothing new and yet…horrific each time. His body betrayed him, lewd laughter and coarse jokes around him, and fresh bruises marked his skin where they hit or grabbed him. Barus's voice here and there and between his slipping consciousness and lucidity, hatred burned entwined with fear and shame.
As unconsciousness finally claimed him, much delayed, he heard Barus, felt his hands on him, and then, before he knew no more, was relieved Ryuu couldn't see this. See what he'd become.
It was afternoon by the time he regained consciousness, the analog ticking of the clock the only sound in the sparse room. His body felt heavy, agony afire in every limb and within him. Soon, he'd have to get up and wash the sheets. His responsibility, despite the fact Barus was the one who caused them to be stained. The room reeked with the mingled stench of blood and sex, not unfamiliar. Two and a half years of mistreatment, the pattern set early.
Only being a Clover saved him so far, if it could be considered merciful. Regeneration was a blessing and a curse, hastening his physical healing with the downside of making him suffer everything anew. Only the deepest wounds left visible scars and his abusers had limitations, restricting their right to maim and kill him. A double-edged boon handed to him by the Azaiean government; he found it difficult to be grateful.
Lying motionless, breathing silently, he went over the basic facts of his possible next assignment to distract from his current situation. Every aspect of it terrified him, being too close to what he was and who he knew in his former life.
The Wizards in the Parliamentary Council. The Azaieans who wanted them dead.
It'd take time for the government and higher brass to determine their strategy and game plan. He would be involved, for he had no say in the matter. Once they figured it out, orders would be given and he'd be allotted recovery time. Barus might even be told to abstain from doling out heavier punishment, for the Azaiean government needed their operatives in decent health and mentality when on assignment. It was the only positive among all the negatives.
Kill the Wizards? He could not.
But Azaiea had ways to force his compliance. The neural implant's capabilities could be expanded, strengthened with another round of conditioning. He was due for one, according to the specialists' timetables. No fear of rebellion against Azaiea or against his handler. Suicidal impulses were dampened – couldn't be completely removed – one of the first things done to him in the early stages. However, Azaiea had to remove the bomb for that, their own hardware taking space in his head.
He'd considered killing himself before. A swift blade to the throat. If he put his palm against his neck and allowed it, there'd be a knife stabbing through his jugular and severing arteries. Blood spray on the walls, on the sheets joining the mess already there. Inches of steel protruding from his nape, a very gruesome death.
An easier death. Yet, he couldn't.
Instead, he remained alive and endured, often quiet and submissive, humiliation notwithstanding. He'd struggled last night and paid for it, unable to move without pain. His wrists were raw, his tattoo worn through.
Lost. Invisible.
His memories were returning, perhaps because of his repeated trips back to his former home country for Azaiean purposes. Four assignments – four kills – and each time, he remembered more. It disturbed him, knowing; yet, he didn't want them suppressed for some reason. Somehow, it was important that he remembered. He just didn't understand why.
Barus, ever vigilant about keeping him in line and surveilled, would soon stop by and wonder at his inactivity. He'd have to stall and beg for time and rest. Movement without immense pain was impossible right now; the other man knew this, too. It added to his humiliation, but that was a pervasive aspect of his life now. The knowledge that he hated pleading spurred his handler on to put him in uncomfortable situations where he had no choice.
As if he ever did.
Ryuu, long lost, was the lucky one. Had died fighting, gone down without shame. Was remembered as loyal and a decent countryman. Unlike him, whose current life was an antithesis of everything he once was. Perhaps, because of that, his suffering was a living penance – an apology to those he couldn't save. Those he'd let down. Maybe, it was even deserved.
Someone had told him that before.
Sometimes, he even believed it.
Notes: The mention of Gingetsu's ability to regenerate comes from the Tokyopop/Dark Horse English translation in Volume 4 when Wizard Shuu gives the reason regarding the placement of the bomb inside Gingetsu. In those translations, he states that the bomb must go in Gingetsu's head, so that he has no chance of regenerating. While the original Japanese doesn't state this (more that Gingetsu cannot be revived), I've used this regeneration ability before in my other Gingetsu-centric Clover fics and will be using it here for story reasons. We barely know anything about a Two-Leaf's abilities from canon, so why not have this headcanon that physical regeneration is one of them?