|
|
Under the Heavens: Part One
By Mirrordance
I haven't been sleeping very well in the past few weeks.
That's why, when I trudged up the steps to my apartment feeling bone-weary after a mission, I was almost grateful because my brain was telling me this had to be the night when I could finally just crash into my bed and…and drown.
I removed my overcoat and just tossed it on a nearby chair, my katana carelessly coming after it in a clang! that would have made me wince on a regular day.
I flopped into my bed and closed my eyes, body falling asleep immediately, though my mind was wide-awake.
I was so sure I was in the flower shop. The place resembled it, but was much, much more complex. Labyrinthine. I knew at once that it was going to be one of those maze-dreams, the one where you're so sure where you have to go and how to get there, but end up getting lost anyway. I hate dreams like that. It spits on your perception of knowing something so certainly, and shows you that you know nothing at all.
It made me irritated, so I decided I would beat the dream and find my way. Where was I going? My dream-self was thinking that Ken gave me a bouquet of roses and I forgot them upstairs, so I have to get them because he'll get upset if I neglected his present. Upset over a trifling thing? Omi scolded me for being so thoughtless. My dream-self could recall Yoji nodding agreement over a cigarette. Where was Ken? It didn't matter. I just had to get the goddamn roses before he came back.
So I left them downstairs and started to make my way towards my apartment, where I had last left them. The sane part of my brain started to wonder: and where would I take them once I've found them? Shouldn't they be kept in my apartment, being mine? Why in the world would Ken give me roses?
I was calm at the start, even as I wondered where I was. At moments I was so sure the next turn would lead me to where I was going, only to be met by disappointment after disappointment.
I never found my room or the roses.
I heard my alarm clock from a distance, then grew louder and louder as I made my way towards wakefulness.
I opened my eyes to my room, with the rising sun winking beneath the curtains. Yes, I found my room at last, but only as a technicality. The dream had beaten me.
I groaned.
The worst part was, I felt as if I hadn't slept at all.
Yoji's coffee could make any sane person believe he was well- rested and wide-awake.
That is, when he got up early enough to make them for breakfast, an extremely rare occurrence. Fortunately for me, today, he happened to be going for a picnic with an irresistible morning person. If these restless nights keep going for me, I wish to God they'd get married.
He left of course, not wanting to be late. Girls usually waited for Yoji, but he says this one won't; no wonder she's his type. Omi chuckled and left for school.
I was left alone. Now where was Ken?
He hadn't joined the mission yesterday, in favor of a late- night soccer game on TV. It irritated the hell out of me. I thought his priorities were settled by now. Apparently not. And NOW he's sleeping in, making me open up the shop alone. What the hell was he getting paid for?
I was just deciding on storming up there and shaking him awake, when sluggish footsteps finally announced his entry into breakfast.
"Hullo," he greeted sheepishly, shuffling to the seat across from mine. He could tell I was annoyed. I know I don't have to say anything to make it perfectly clear. I'm not oblivious to how people look at me.
He sipped into Yoji's abandoned coffee and sighed blissfully. It almost made me forget my annoyance, because that was exactly what I had wanted to do before.
"Any problems last night?" he asked, and the crease in his forehead told me he's been wondering about it for a very long time. I'm happy your conscience gets you at last, Hidaka.
"None," I lied. Just to make him feel as if he was useless, and how much we don't need him.
"Good," he said, and in contrast to my expectations, he brightened. Was he actually trying to provoke me? Was he working towards getting fired? What was going on? This is one hell of a parallel universe.
This day was starting to feel just like yesterday.
I hate it when a day sucks and people tell you tomorrow's going to be okay. Tomorrow NEVER comes, it just becomes today all over again and it was driving me crazy.
Manx stepped into the shop.
She was an impeccably beautiful woman, but I was starting to dread the sight of her.
I growled as I drove the car, in remembrance of the spat I just had with Ken over tonight's mission.
Yes, he was staying at home again, watching a soccer marathon. Omi and Yoji were in the car with me, wisely keeping silent. It might have been my rage that kept them so, or they were praying because somehow, I wasn't paying as much attention to the road…
We screeched to a halt a few blocks from the target's HQ.
"Jesus, Abyssinian!" exclaimed Yoji, catching his breath, "talk about a little subtlety?"
I muttered at him. It wasn't an apology, though he nodded as if it were one.
We walked the empty streets towards the warehouse, where the Spirit Circle was supposed to be meeting.
The situation played in my head, like a lull before the storm though in actuality, we were stuck right in its eye.
The Spirit Circle was a group of faith healers who suckered their customers into believing they were cured, causing a lot of deaths. It was relatively common, but this group was reputed to be made up of intentional crooks, unlike others who sincerely believed in their practice. The Circle made use of illegal drugs and hypnosis to convince their patrons, and the price was high.
Manx had briefed the four of us this afternoon, and Omi spent the time researching the location in time for a quick, nighttime mission.
Stealthily, we made our way into the warehouse…
…to be welcomed by the clicks of innumerable guns, trained our way. I poised for an attack, but felt Yoji's hand on my shoulder.
He was right; there was too many of them.
Our weapons have been confiscated (save for Yoji's, which wasn't detected), and as we were ushered into our makeshift cells, I could hear an argument near the back of the very thick group that escorted us.
Somehow, we knew we weren't headed for an execution just yet; that would have been impractical of our captors.
This was confirmed by the argument, where a very decisive tone was used in saying there was a need to interrogate us first, as to who had wanted them killed.
"They're just pawns, see?" the Voice said, "you know, hirelings? We have to find out who wants us dead. Nip it at the bud"
"Fine," snapped the Other Voice, "but I say we should have interrogated the Informer. He would have known"
"It's best we keep him on our side," said the Voice soothingly, "he'll unfurl in his own time"
I grit my teeth in rage. An Informer. Kritiker had a Goddamn Leak. No wonder they were ready for us. But who else could have known?
Bless their merciful little hearts, the three of us were shoved into a meat locker. This room-like refrigerator, where pigs and cows hung ominously upside down on hooks?
Knowing the place was a warehouse, I was so certain escape would be easy, since they had no built-in prison cells around here. But this was just morbid, and surpassed my expectations.
I didn't mind the smell so much as I minded the cold. It wouldn't take us long to freeze to death. Omi was already halfway there in his clothes, so Yoji and I offered him ours.
I should have known he wouldn't take them, so I used my death- glare on him and he finally yielded. NOW I would be the one to freeze.
The three of us valiantly looked for a decent exit, even grabbed at the hooks and scraped at the walls. But nothing was working.
Eventually, the three of us just huddled together, with me squeezed in between the two of them. Had it been another time, I would have found it embarrassing. But I was too cold to give a damn.
I felt Yoji chuckle.
He was looking at me, and said he was surprised I actually ever got cold.
I pretended I didn't understand. I knew how the others felt about me. I'm not stupid. It hurt once in awhile, but it's not as if I couldn't understand where they're coming from. Sorry guys, but that the way I am. We just get used to each other.
I didn't know how long the three of us were stuck that way.
One minute we were there, the next we were on our feet armed with hooks when we heard muffled thwoks from the other side of the door.
It opened slowly.
The three of us were ready for an attack; death seemed so much warmer an option than staying in this forsaken place.
I've never seen a more welcoming sight.
Ken stood there, pale and huffing, bugnuks bloodied. He tossed us our weapons.
"Let's break out of this place," he said with that sheepish grin.
Yoji, Omi and I stepped away from the meat locker and shut it reassuringly behind us. The cold was rapidly leaving my body as we walked around the warehouse, stepping over a litter of bodies.
"The target?" I asked.
"Dead," Ken replied tightly.
I frowned. There was something wrong with this picture, but I nodded anyway.
Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I watched him as he gasped and leaned heavily against the corridor wall, one hand shooting out for balance and the other clutching his stomach.
"What is it?" I asked, hurrying to his side and looking for injuries. His clothes were bloody, but it was hard to tell if it was his or anyone else's.
He waved me away, making placating gestures with one freed hand. Omi and Yoji hovered with me.
"Sit the hell down, Ken!" urged Yoji.
Things were going so fast, rapidly running away from my control. Like the goddamn maze dream.
From the corner of my eye I saw a familiar figure stop at the other end of the corridor. He was obviously hurrying out of the warehouse, but froze in fear at the sight of us.
The Target. The head of the Circle.
I looked at Ken accusingly. He had lied! But he was oblivious, still hunched over himself.
Omi looked at my preoccupation and set off a rapid succession of darts, by instinct and reflex. They found their mark.
The figure fell to the floor, an echo in the warehouse.
Ken's head shot up at the sound.
"No!" he screamed, breaking from our group and running towards the fallen figure. He fell to his knees beside the dead man.
"No…" he said in resigned anguish. He clutched the dead man to his chest, desperately. He looked up at the three of us with pain in his hazel eyes as he said:
"He was my only hope"
I didn't understand.
The sun rose, some light peeking through the holes and poor patches in the warehouse.
I didn't understand.
All I knew was that we had just met the Informer.
Kritiker agents came over and cleaned up the particularly spectacular mess. Ken's bugnuks…were not quite so neat.
Omi had called them in to take care of it, though mostly because he wanted Manx around. None of us knew what we were supposed to do about Ken.
I couldn't put his name alongside…Traitor, just yet.
Manx came in through the doors, looking at us strangely. We don't usually call them up for clean-up jobs.
She was staring particularly at Ken, huddled on the ground holding a dead body of a target in his arms.
"I thought you had rejected the mission, Siberian," she said in a neutral tone.
He looked up at her blankly, said nothing.
The crew pulled the body from his arms, which at first struggled against them, then just numbly let go.
"Is he hurt?" Manx asked us, already realizing Ken wouldn't answer just yet. "In shock, maybe?"
How do we put this…?
"We don't know," confessed Yoji.
Manx hesitantly sank to her knees beside Ken.
"I would…" she began, "greatly appreciate a report on this incident, Siberian."
I could tell she was using her authoritative voice and words to give Ken some measure of control, if he was indeed in shock.
Ken lifted his weary face and looked her straight in the eye.
"I told the Circle they were targets tonight," he said.
No explanations whatsoever.
"Is this true?" Manx asked, turning to...me.
God knew why.
"Yes," I told her.
No explanations either. There would be time for that later.
"I will have to detain you," Manx told Ken.
He nodded.
"I know"
Interrogation room, Kritiker-style.
The base was big and underground, with prison cells and infirmaries and offices and tactic rooms and...rooms like these.
It was plain, pure white with an uncomfortable stool at the center. On one wall stood a double-sided mirror. Omi, Yoji and I were on one side looking in on Ken, who, from the inside could only see his own reflection. But he was looking almost straight at us, absolutely knowing we were there.
Birman stepped inside, to conduct the questioning. It would have been the more experienced Manx, but she was more affiliated with the group, therefore decided she shouldn't.
"Are you a traitor, Siberian?" asked Birman at once. Hm. Maybe not so inexperienced at this after all.
Ken hesitated. Winced, at something.
"If you look at it one way, yes and if you look at it in another..."
"Either you are or you're not" Birman said.
"Then maybe yes," said Ken, tight-lipped again. He started wringing his wrists. He was so transparent in being jumpy.
"Are you aware of the punishment for an agent who turns coat?" she asked.
"Death," Ken replied.
"And yet you didn't try to escape," she said, "or avoid arrest"
"No, I didn't" he confirmed.
"Were you hoping for leniency?" she asked, "a pardon?"
"No"
"Then why turn yourself in?"
"I had nowhere else to go"
"Nowhere to run, you mean?"
"No," he said tiredly, "just...nowhere else to go"
Birman paused in thought, glancing at the three of us on the other side of the mirror. "Do you consider your teammates as your friends?"
"Yes"
"Do you regularly betray your friends?"
That was low, Birman. That really was.
"Some friends do," Ken said with a bitter chuckle at his private, Kase-joke. "But not me"
"What would you call the stunt you just pulled?" she snapped.
He hesitated again, glanced at the mirror too. "I'd...rather not say"
"You've seen interrogations before," she said flatly, "you know we can make you say anything"
"Yes"
"So you might as well fess up now, right?"
He frowned. "It's not that easy"
"Why did you tell the Circle White Cross was coming?"
"So they would escape," replied Ken, "or at least, their head man. Spira, his name...was. I wanted something that only he could give me"
"He paid you?"
"No," Ken said, "I told you, I wanted something only he could give me. No one else"
"What was that?" she asked.
"Life"
"Life," repeated Birman distastefully. "Are you deliberately being cryptic?"
"No," he replied wearily, "I'm being very, very literal..."
His eyes rolled back and he slumped, barely caught by a stunned Birman as he fell. The stool collapsed to the ground in a final clang.
It turned my blood cold.
I pressed forward into the glass, as if I could go through it.
Stupid. Yoji and Omi hadn't seen, thank God. They ran towards the door, and I finally had wits enough to follow them.