Clipped Wings

A Clover fanfiction written by: RinoaDestiny

Chapter 3

His deputy commander's face was bright, overjoyed by something. The lights in the entertainment district reflected off his glasses, red and green and yellow. He looked younger, despite being about his age.

"Gingetsu! Glad you were able to make it! Didn't know if you got my card. Last minute."

"I got it," he said, observing the other man. There was a parcel under one arm, wrapped in a hurry. Ryuu's scarf was trailing and snow flecked his dark overcoat with spots of white.

"This is nice and all, but it's cold! Let's go inside and grab some punch."

Following Ryuu, Gingetsu took in the peripheral sights. He wasn't the festive type, yet could see why people would come out and meet up when all the lights threw colors around. Excitement and togetherness and…things he generally didn't have in his life.

There was togetherness in an army and battlefields were exciting (if one could call it that), but one would have to be psychotic to stay there unasked.

The building they entered was large, elaborate and constructed differently compared to the steel and concrete monoliths around it. Intricate decorations carved in wood and plaster gave the foyer a sense of nostalgia, of time gone by. Greenery on the walls and pillars. A chandelier sparkled above.

This place was a relic, like the antiques he collected.

"Never been to a Christmas party before?"

"No."

"Well, you're in luck! It's a full buffet and drinks on a free bar and all the works."

Gingetsu shrugged, moving through the crowd. The fragrance of perfume and cologne, of rich food that most people never ate on a daily basis. Luxuries, given the event. Usually, lives here were simple, though that could be a reflection of his life.

"Here's our table. Give me your coat and sit down or grab some food. I'll be right back."

Then Ryuu was gone, the parcel left on his chair to mark his spot.

Two weeks later, Barus handed him a sealed file without comment, now in a professional role. Taking it, 284 limped away to the living room to study the details of his next assignment. By now, most of his superficial injuries had healed, except the worst ones, and he preferred being somewhere else in the house rather the horror that was his bedroom. The file was thick, stamped with the official Azaiean government seal, and as he opened it, he dreaded the possible contents.

Leaning against a table for balance, he pored over the documents. Relief as he read, for it wasn't the assignment he thought it was. Due to the chaos caused by his last job, Azaiea decided to send him elsewhere for the next couple months. His former home country, riled because of the latest assassination, sought their phantom assassin and it wouldn't do to be there while that occurred. Instead, Azaiea had their sights on another country and only he was suitable for the task.

Included in the file were brief profiles on several squad members, code names and ranks listed. Interesting. Unlike his previous assignments, this one required teamwork with a select elite squad. As the ace in Azaiea's sleeve, he was to hide while the squad provided distraction, allowing him to make the kill. Several maps were enclosed, providing detailed topography and landmarks. The target this time was a high-ranking general – his death would destabilize that country's military, possibly enough to tip it into Azaiean hands.

The general's biographic information was also here, concisely listed and summarized for his perusal. Quickly reading it, slotting away pertinent details and memorizing the photograph, he moved onto the next sheet in the file.

All familiar work, considering…

He took a breath. Stopped with his hand on the page. No. He wasn't going to think about what he'd been or what had happened before. A different time, a different place, a different person.

His only griefs lay in Ryuu and Ran. He'd never been able to say goodbye.

Work like this, however, and the analysis of its details was as close to normalcy as he could get nowadays. Without any rights besides living, he never squandered the opportunities given. People died – perhaps undeservingly – because of him, but whatever took him away from Barus's house was a respite. He didn't get many of those; his body ached, reacting to the thought.

A step in front of him, deliberately loud.

Looking up, 284 closed the file and placed it down on the table behind him, obscuring the documents. A habit developed from years of experience concerning confidential material. Facing Barus, he kept his demeanor subdued, as expected of someone in his station. He didn't want to be subjected to another beating or punitive rapes again.

"Enjoying the work?" His handler's grin, jovial and teasing, was unnerving. "Paperwork's boring, you know?"

"Keeps me preoccupied," he said, voice low and tone mild. "Keeps me alive," he added, almost a barb in light of his circumstances.

Barus chuckled. "Yes, I like being alive. Better than being dead."

He didn't respond, expecting a follow-up.

"If Kazuhiko was here, would he be as subservient as you?"

A low blow, perhaps also deserved. Yet, regarding his late friend… He raised his chin, even while a warning cried out in his mind to be careful. "No. Ryuu would've killed you or died trying." The most he ever dared to say, skirting insolence against Barus. Dangerous. But he had known Ryuu and Ryuu wouldn't be like this. Would sooner die than submit.

What did that say about him?

"I see."

He didn't move, even as Barus stepped closer. Braced himself for a blow or worse.

Behind his glasses, Barus's eyes narrowed. "And you being alive like this," a quick contemptuous sweep of his hand, encompassing all of him, "respects him? He died because of you and yet, here you are." Undisguised scorn thick in his handler's voice. "Would he accept you, seeing what you've become?"

He drew in a sharp quick breath. A question he'd often asked himself, an ongoing torment. The answer was obvious, though. No. Of course, Ryuu wouldn't.

Azaiea's assassin, their hidden secret. Barus's whore, a much used plaything.

"Better me than him," he said, for it was the bitter truth.

"Oh, I don't know about that." A change in Barus's tone, a knife edge under deceptive mildness. "I'm a jealous man around the Prince. Would never share him." A cutting look straight at him, the blade of Barus's voice bared. "Unlike you. But you know that, I think."

An illusion shattered, cruelly and bluntly.

Not knowing what to say, he kept silent and bowed his head.

"Full service to the state, eh?" Barus closed the short distance between them, trapping him against the table. "Body and soul. Were you like this when you were a lieutenant colonel, Gingetsu? Unquestioning obedience?"

His past thrown at him like a barrage. There were no words suitable to respond to any of it.

"Answer me." A command, not a suggestion.

"Which question?" Too many and each one hurtful.

"All of them, Gingetsu." His former name sullied, spoken too intimately by this man he hated. "Don't lie to me."

A threat and 284 knew action lay not far behind it. "No and yes."

Barus reached out, gripping his chin. His callused fingers pressed hard into fragile skin. "Be specific."

"No regarding Ryuu and yes to the state." It took effort not to grit out his answers, especially concerning Ryuu. Forever a sore point – an easy vulnerability.

"Yes, huh?" His handler's expression turned vile and lewd. "Did you bend over for the Council? Have your superiors fuck you?"

His own expression must've changed and been less than respectful, because Barus yanked him forward. Thrown off balance, he collided against the other man, whose grip on his jaw had tightened. Discomfort radiated from his injured body; he bit his inner cheek, stifling a cry.

"Remember your place. Do you need further demonstration, Gingetsu?"

Terrified, he shook his head.

Barus let him go; he almost fell, catching himself on the other man. Scorn on Barus's face as he stumbled back, hitting the edge of the table. Shame welled within him at his cowardice, but he remembered the recent night's brutality, body still bearing testament to it.

"We eat in half an hour. Be presentable."

Still reeling, he watched Barus leave. The file behind him remained closed, undisturbed.

Reconnaissance was all out. Already in retreat, the men under his direct command were attempting to escape the chaos and slaughter of the battlefield. Gingetsu wiped blood off his forehead, sword glued to his hand from all the fighting and cast a desperate glance around.

[Ryuu!]

He didn't know where his former deputy's unit was. He couldn't leave until he found him. They had a promise between them and while Gingetsu didn't intend to break it, neither did he want Ryuu to die.

He was his former commanding officer. He was directly responsible for him.

[Ryuu! Where are you? Answer me!]

Screams of wounded and dying men, explosions all around, and the horrific lethal sound of laser fire.

Nothing from Ryuu.

Going against the retreating press of soldiers, he advanced towards the center of the field. They were getting out together or not at all.

"Barus says you're specialized," the man in uniform sitting across from him said blandly, dipping bread into sauce. "I'm given to understand you used to be a military man." Keen and hard eyes set in a round and soft face; yet, there was nothing soft about their guest. Not an armchair officer – not from the way the man scrutinized him or from how he dismantled his roll, continuing to eat while keeping his uniform clean. His hands weren't soft – this was a man who'd seen and likely continued to be active in wars.

"Yes." He didn't offer any details. As instructed, he wore his cleanest shirt and pants, combed his hair, and tried not to limp. He was Agent 284 and this military officer before him was likely in charge of his upcoming assignment.

"You may speak."

Clearing his throat, he lowered his gaze. "I was formerly black ops. Was responsible for a battalion."

"Not just any battalion."

This officer already knew the answers. He just wanted to hear it from him, a goad regarding his personal involvement in a brutal defeat. Beneath the dining table, his hands balled into fists. Suppressing his discomfort from sitting, he focused instead on delivering what this higher brass so arrogantly wanted.

"The Special Forces Hisoku."

"The scourge against us for so long." A smug silence. "But now you're here with its secrets."

"I'm in the service of Azaiea," he said, trying to keep bitterness from his voice. An irony, not lost on anyone here.

"Yes. You are." A tone of command, brooking no nonsense. "What are your skills?"

Permitted water, he took a careful sip from a steel cup. Placed it down. Glass was forbidden to him, for it could become a weapon. "Wetwork. Extraction. Diplomacy. I'm…able to regenerate, depending on the severity of my injuries."

Across from him, the military officer raised a brow. "Useful."

He ignored the comment. "Weapons are immediately available to me. Nothing too complex. Blades, basic guns, simple explosives." His sniper rifle had only been possible after hours of study, mentally mapping each individual part and how they worked as a whole before he memorized everything. Weapon retrieval took prior preparation time before becoming instantaneous. However, neither the Azaiean government and military, nor his handler Barus needed to know any of that. His personal secret – a card not yet played.

"And how is it done, 284?"

"He's a Clover." Barus interjecting, looking pleased. "A lower level of psychic. The Parliamentary Council from his own country – ah, I misspoke – his former country feared his kind."

"A living weapon."

"Yes. Not like the girl, though. She would've been extremely useful."

"284, demonstrate."

No warning whatsoever, right here among the tableware. He stared at the military officer, muscles tense. Demonstrate? Was the other man so confident that nothing would go wrong? Or that he could… He leaned back, the thought disappearing before it took shape. Raising his left hand, the damaged tattoo visible on his wrist, he obeyed. "Of course."

It only took a thought, the weapon simple and common. A military standard-issue knife, heavy and rugged. It was in his hand in three seconds – a comforting weight – before he slammed it onto the table, rattling the dishes and cups. The dark blade, unused and clean, was honed to a fine edge. The omission of the sheath was intentional.

Barus gave him an odd look, but his attention stayed on the military officer. His expression was strange and conflicted – surprise, fear, regret, or something else he couldn't place?

"Thank you. That'll be enough."

The knife remained where it was before him, a reminder of what he could do. By now, he should've removed it; he didn't feel like it. As if afraid of any violent possibilities, Barus got up and took the weapon away. His handler had been caught off guard.

"284, you'll receive a full briefing two weeks from now. Be ready."

He nodded in acknowledgment.

"You'll hear from me, Barus." It was evident the evening was over. "284, you are dismissed."

Or perhaps only his part in it. Rising gingerly, holding back a wince, he obeyed and departed the dining room. As he left, closing the door behind him, he caught a glimpse of Barus's face. The man was afraid, trying to hide it.

Living that daily, he felt a moment's satisfaction. His footsteps were silent.

The mystery parcel was for him, a gift. Surprised, he opened it, undoing cord and thick brown paper. Inside laid black leather gloves, soft and supple and exactly his size.

"Ryuu…"

"Your current pair looks worn out, so…" A small shrug. His deputy commander smiled. "Thought you'd appreciate a new one."

Gingetsu was speechless for a second, unable to form a response. When it came, it only brought to mind his shortcomings. "I didn't get you anything. I didn't realize –"

"There's always next year. Don't sweat it, Gingetsu. You're here. That's gift enough, okay?"

He still felt inadequate, unprepared. "Next year, then."

Ryuu laughed. "I look forward to it. Come on, we're not done yet. Still have room for seconds or you want to try the dance floor?"

Weight on top of him, his arm yanked behind his back – it hurt – and a voice hissing into his ear. "What was that, eh? Trying to prove something?"

He squirmed, face pressed into his pillow, fighting panic. He'd been sleeping and then… It must've been late; it had to be. One lock on his door, but it shut from the outside and not from within. No way to keep Barus out, as designed. Now Barus was here, had the dominant position and was angry. Heavy, too, pinning him down – he couldn't buck him off. If both his hands were free…

Suffocating – he couldn't breathe. Turning his face to the side, he tried to get some air. It was stale, the nauseating reek from weeks ago gone. Intensifying panic as Barus stayed on him, his struggling feeble and exhausting.

A hand on the back of his neck, fingers wrapping around his throat.

He froze.

"Being difficult, are you? Is something interfering with your conditioning?"

He didn't know. But since returning to his former home country for the last few assignments, his suppressed memories were slowly surfacing and perhaps… Staying quiet, unsure and unwilling to give his handler any advantage, he fought for self-control. He didn't like people – anyone – touching him or being atop him like this. It was frightening. Led to awful painful things happening.

"Hmph. Maybe they need to do something with your neural implant. You are getting defiant."

A terrifying idea. If Azaiea completely removed his ability to think for himself, then…what would that make him? Didn't an agent need some degree of autonomy?

"No," he said, hating himself for his weakness, his voice pleading. "No."

He felt Barus's gaze on him, searching and cold. The hand around his neck loosened slightly. "Do not disappoint me. Discipline can always be postponed until after your assignment."

He still ached and hurt from Barus's method of discipline. Compared to being lobotomized, though, it was a lesser degree of hell. Better physical agony than being reduced to a vegetable or a robotic pawn without a mind of his own.

"I won't." He took a careful breath. "Please. I need to sleep."

A few seconds and then Barus removed his hand from his neck, only to run his knuckles against his cheek. Shuddering, he remained still as his handler yet again asserted his dominance. The implicit threat behind the gesture.

"Sleep well…Gingetsu. Only a few hours left. Don't want to waste them, eh?"

It was a long time after Barus left before he slept again. His cheek burned where Barus had touched him, a metaphorical brand.