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Okay, finished my edits to chapter two of Satoru and Eden's story.
Man, I write so slow ;__; At about 8,000 words.
Chapter One
Damien stared sullenly at the inked medicine wheel on his left wrist. So many meanings were wrapped up in the tattoo, and not all of them were strictly related to the history of the symbol itself. It was protection. That was all their small crew had been told, that was all that Satoru himself had been told. He, however, knew better.
He glanced up at Arman, speaking softly, “Are you really sure you want to give everyone the mark?”
Arman sighed, fingering the matching tattoo on his own left wrist, “It’s safer this way. After all, the rebels aren’t the only ones hiding out in Babylon. The wheel will still be remembered-its reputation made sure of that.”
“But is a memory really powerful enough to make a difference?” Damien frowned at Arman.
Arman smiled, “It’s not the memory we’re counting on. It’s the association that comes with the wheel-not just anyone comes by that mark. No one will mess with you.”
“I’m sure.” Damien covered the tattoo with his uniform sleeve. “As you say, not just anyone comes by the mark. You are aware of what this means, then?”
“It means nothing,” Arman waved him away. “The gang is part of the past.” He looked up at Damien, cutting off the younger man’s retort, “It may be disrespectful, Damien, but sometimes you do what you have to do.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Arman smiled at him, “If that’s how it is, then make sure they become worthy of it, Brigadier.”
The corner of Damien’s mouth lifted into a grin, “Yes, sir. They won’t know what hit them.”
“I’ll count on that.” Arman smirked as he noted the time on his watch, “You might want to run along, though. You’re already going to be late for your little partner’s meeting.”
“Oh, shit!” Damien muttered under his breath, giving a nod to Arman. “I want vodka served at my funeral, got that?”
Arman’s chuckle followed him out as Damien shut the door behind him, giving a slight nod to Arman’s secretary before passing out of the office and into the hall. He felt a little more confident about the upcoming mission. Speaking with Arman had reminded him that he had the upper hand on his partner for once. They would see where being snarky got his partner now.
He knew much more about the situation they were about to jump into than did his partner, if he was honest he really knew more than he wanted to; which brought to mind the thing bothering him the most: his placement on the mission. He had not thought it the time to question Arman just yet, but it bothered him all the same. Whether coincidence, and with Arman he thought not, or on purpose he was deep enough in this particular situation that he could not act without personal bias. That was something he knew could potentially endanger the mission, and so he again wondered at Arman’s actions. The man knew better than almost anyone just how involved he was.
“He doesn’t even know who we’re going up against,” Damien muttered, shaking his head as his thoughts drifted back to his partner, “But I do, for better or worse.”
“You do what?” Damien nearly jumped as a smooth voice cut into the silence of his thoughts.
He turned, smiling as he recognized Christopher. Christopher was the type of person, Damien thought, who should have been a pediatrician. The man was certainly bouncy enough to keep up with any child. With his easy smile and agreeable personality the man was perfectly suited to his profession as a doctor, he oozed bed-side manner. Not for the first time, Damien wondered just how Christopher had ended up in Etherica. He was probably the only one on the staff who ranked below the criteria for psychic ability, which meant he certainly had not been drafted. He had always assumed that Christopher had just been following his significant other, but Gabriel had left long ago and yet Christopher remained.
“Was just talking to myself,” he replied. Damien usually enjoyed Christopher’s company, but at the moment he just hit far too close to home. There was, in fact, no one who could be closer to the center of the problem that still remained in the facility.
The doctor rested a hand firmly on Damien’s shoulder, guiding him into an unoccupied room. It would seem Christopher had firmly set himself against Damien’s unvoiced wish to be left alone. Damien’s eyebrow rose as the door was shut behind him, the lock clicking into place. Christopher’s face was uncharacteristically serious as he turned around to face the younger officer. Damien blinked, taken aback.
“You’ve been put on that mission, correct?” Christopher had steepled his fingers, the tips lightly touching, in a movement Damien had long ago decided was a nervous gesture on the part of the doctor.
“You.” Damien’s eyes narrowed, beginning to connect some dots that he had not seen before. “You are why I’m on this mission.”
“Well,” Christopher hedged, drawing out the word a few beats, “it was rather convenient that Arman had already decided to assign your partner to it. He clearly favors that man.”
“Have you looked at his peer officers?” Damien’s tone was incredulous. “There’s just no contest.”
“You favor him as well,” Christopher commented, tactfully ignoring Damien’s blush. “However, I can see your point. Etherica has been getting sloppy.”
“I’m still not sure how I haven’t made Lieutenant General, what with those fuck-ups that are there now,” Damien growled out.
“Perhaps it’s because you’re too enamored of your partner to break your partnership? There’s too much work to be done for you to remain partners if you both had rank, even with a partner as reputedly admirable as yours,” Christopher suggested cheekily. “Because I have no doubt you would shirk your duties like the current officers.”
“Oh, shut up!” Damien glared at him, he hated when the few people who were aware teased him about his crush on his partner.
“To finish answering your accusation: yes, I did request you put on this mission. However, Arman had already decided to place you both, so it didn’t really matter.” Christopher fiddled his fingers a bit, pausing. “You’ll watch over him, right?” They both know who he was referring to.
Damien sighed, “I’ll do what I have to do, Chris. You can’t ask more of me. Your kid brother’s really dug himself a hole.”
“I know,” Christopher closed his eyes. “I just wish that everything would work out. He never has been able to sit still and keep his mouth closed.”
“We all do, Chris. We all do.” He sighed again, “I’m sure we’ll work this out one way or another. No one wants to see blood shed except the damned president.”
“I have faith in you,” Chris smiled at him.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” Damien shook his head, feeling like utter shit as he unlocked the door and left the room.
He only hoped he didn’t let Christopher down. Some things in life were considerably worse than death. Being the cause of Christopher’s sadness was one of them; consequently, facing Arman’s wrath after letting Christopher down was another. All in all, it left him with a sick feeling that he was truly fucked.
“That’s it!” he swung his arms out dramatically in the middle of the empty hallway. “Everyone is out to give me a headache-bunch of fuckers.”
Resisting the urge to beat his head on a wall (there were several suitable ones located conveniently nearby), but only just, Damien instead turned his feet towards the conference room and the meeting with his partner and their crew he was becoming disastrously late for. Life just got better and better.
“I should get a goddamned medal for putting up with this place and everyone in it.”
______________________________________
Satoru glanced at his wristwatch for what had to be the fiftieth time-and Damien was still late. His only satisfaction was that he was making everyone else develop a nervous tic. He checked his watch again, wondering what had happened to his partner and, a little less seriously, if the man was purposely trying to drive him mad. Damien had better have a good excuse for driving him up a wall, his partner knew better than anyone else what his policies on tardiness were, and about his anal streak that made it so important.
There was a soft knock, it echoed in the dead silence of a room where no one was brave enough to speak for fear of setting Lieutenant General Fujiwara off. A different truant shuffled in self-consciously, shrinking under the heated glare Satoru sent him and skittering towards a vacant seat. Satoru barely managed to keep his growl silent, glancing at his watch once more. Thirty-three minutes, forty-two seconds late, and counting. Another of the men twitched at the far end of the table. Satoru smirked.
Ten minutes later, just as Satoru was beginning to feel homicidal, Damien finally arrived. He did not bother to knock, simply opening the door and closing it behind him with a soft click. He sat down in the chair next to Satoru, settling a pile of folders on the table-the only reason Satoru had not just started the meeting without him.
“Everyone here?” Damien glanced up and looked around the long table.
Satoru wanted to smack him.
“Good,” Damien grinned, “I’ve got a file for each of you here. They’re identical, so just take one and pass it along.” He took the top to files off the stack and passed the others along. One of the two he kept for himself, the thickest he pushed towards Satoru. “Yours, of course, is more in-depth, Lieutenant General.”
Satoru took it from him wordlessly, fixing Damien with a glare. He must suffer for his lateness. Damien merely grinned in response.
“The information in these files is for reference, though I suggest you familiarize yourself with it intimately,” Damien waggled his eyebrows suggestively, grinning when several people coughed to, presumably, cover up a laugh. “Most of it’s just stuff we’re going to go over anyway.”
Satoru butt in, “So if you don’t mind, let’s get to business.”
“As the boss-man says,” Damien grinned. He stood up so that he was at the front of the room and in the approximate center of the table. “Alright then, welcome aboard, kiddies! Please remember that the Lieutenant General and I expect only the best out of you as officers of Etherica. I hope I need not stress that failure on this mission will not be tolerated and will be duly punished-in short: don’t screw up.”
He paused to look around the table. No one appeared too intimidated yet-he hoped that was a good sign, rather than a bad one. Sometimes miracles really did happen. At least, he preferred to believe it was so.
“I am Brigadier Deardorf, your second-in command. Make fun of my name and you will sorely regret it, boys. Lieutenant General Fujiwara will be commanding this mission, as you should already know. Learn to fear him, I’m not joking.
“First things, first, I have a little check-list to go over with all of you. If you lack anything from the following list you are probably here by mistake. If not, let us know immediately so that it can be provided for you. Chase me so far?”
His audience seemed to be following, at least so far as Damien could tell. He pulled out a sheet from the top of his folder and cleared his throat.
“Alright, then. First of all, see this?” Damien pulled down his left sleeve, exposing the medicine wheel tattoo. “You all should have had one of these done. If you haven’t already you’ll be kicked from the mission. There’s not enough time left for it to heal properly. We’ve done our best to grey the ink to make the tattoos look older, but it’s not really going to fool anyone who studies it closely. Dr. Mordaunte has some medicine available to accelerate the healing process of the skin; I suggest you make use of it as it will make everything seem more legit.
“Secondly, you all should have been issued a handgun, standard Etherica make-we aren’t dealing with ghosts so nothing special, three rounds of ammunition-we’ll have spares but use your ammo wisely, and a small knife. You should be able to conceal these easily. Do so or you’ll attract unwanted attention where we’re going. You think the ghetto is bad, it’s got nothing on this place”
Damien paused there, letting his eyes wander over the group. His eyes rested on Satoru’s, lingering there before passing back over the group.
“That clear, kiddies? If you aren’t prepared you had best make arrangements ASAP. Liuetenant General Fujiwara is not very forgiving-I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors. They aren’t exaggerated.”
Damien was slightly relieved to see that at least that statement got a nervous reaction. Overconfidence could be a very poisonous attribute, and it was one he intended to remedy quickly in this group. Lack of confidence was just as deadly, but he and Satoru had been careful to weed out that element at the beginning of their selection.
“So now that we’ve got that cleared up, let’s move on to the real important stuff. Up to this point, none of you have been told much about this mission in detail. Simply that it was highly classified and you’d be paid to keep your mouth shut. And I will reiterate that-not a word of what is discussed in this meeting is to leave this room.
“Our primary objective is espionage and infiltration. I assume that all of you know about the ruins of old New York City? Babylon, as they are more commonly known now. Various outlaws and criminals have been gathering there for decades now, it’s quite the cesspit for smuggling and the black market-and a significant contributor to the illegal ghosts we have to deal with from time to time. Beyond that it has also been harboring something far more dangerous, something which has been kept confidential to only the highest officers in the Etherica organization: escaped talents have been gathering there as well. This is just one reason we need to be cautious, we aren’t necessarily dealing with average citizens with low psychic levels, we’re dealing with higher level psionics that should have been initiated into the organization.”
He paused to give his words time to sink in, and paused even longer to let the room fall silent as the men expressed their surprise. After all, it was officially unheard of to escape from Etherica’s grasp once you scored a high enough psychic level. None of the people they would be facing should exist, according to the official record.
“These rebel psionics have banded together to form a group whose priority seems to be the destruction of the organization. The first part of our mission is to infiltrate this group and verify the truth of these rumors. If they prove true, at that point we are to bring the group down by whatever means necessary.”
He swallowed, closing his eyes and sending a silent apology to Christopher.
“Is that clear?” There was no response indicating otherwise, so he continued, “We have some preliminary maps from earlier missions, you’ll find a copy of those in your folder, if you please. The buildings marked with red X’s are the most probable locations for the base of the vigilante group. As of yet its precise location has not been verified.
“We will enter the Babylon ruins in two weeks. Dress as civilians so you blend in, I hope I need not press the importance of not standing out so don’t overdo it. The tattoos you have received are the mark of an old but infamous gang. The worst of the criminals should be wary of that mark, so don’t be afraid to use it but don’t go flashing it around either. It will jeopardize all of us if one of you pick a fight with the wrong person and can’t back that mark up. Keep your head down low and your ears open, men. We’ll go over the operation in more detail in two weeks on our way to the ruins, in the meantime Lieutenant General Fujiwara and I have to review the mission plan and revise it. If there are no questions then I’ll turn the floor over to the Lieutenant General.”
Greeted with silence, Damien returned to his seat as Satoru stood with his back held rigidly straight in the awful manner that made it painfully clear just how uptight his partner truly could be. The Asian marched to the front of the room and eyed each man, looking them in the eye until each subordinate officer looked away from his icy gaze. Damien did not blame them, when Satoru got that look he seemed to be sizing up your very soul. It was more than creepy.
“I see that some of you have got your act together,” Satoru deadpanned. “Let us hope the rest follow your example.” He paced back and forth slowly, hands firmly clasped behind his back. “This mission is dangerous; don’t let Brigadier Deardorf’s flippant attitude delude you. It is not fun, and it is certainly no game. Your fellow comrades might live or die by your actions. You will behave yourselves at all times, be commendable to the organization and follow the orders given to you. We will meet at 500 hours in two weeks time. Be there early and come prepared, that includes you Brigadier Deardorf.
“You will get no second chances, boys. This isn’t a training exercise, this is for real. Sober up and keep the stakes in mind.”
He came to a full halt, turning to face the men. “You are dismissed for now. If you have further questions please see Brigadier Deardorf. Study the contents of your folders closely.”
Satoru waited for the men to depart before cornering Damien. Damien was grateful for small favors, though he would prefer to have avoided a confrontation period. As it was, he could tell his partner was absolutely livid as he turned to him. Standing, Damien took a step backwards towards the wall, despite himself. The Lieutenant General was stunning when he was angry, stunning in the way of a tornado charging full-force. He swallowed and forced himself to meet his partner’s angry stare.
“Did you have something you wanted to talk about?” If anything Satoru’s expression got darker at Damien’s teasing tone.
“Why were you forty-three minutes and thirty-seven seconds late?” Satoru was using the careful and precise deadpan he only used when struggling not to strangle someone, anyone else would be afraid for their life, Damien was merely accustomed to it.
Damien’s eyebrow rose mentally, not sure what to make of Satoru actually keeping that close count of his tardiness. He had known his partner was a little obsessive-compulsive, but this certainly took the cake. He filed the information away to analyze later, focusing on responding.
Damien grinned nervously, “Oh, that. Half the organization felt the need to waylay me in the hall.” He carefully schooled his face into a smirk which he knew would only agitate his partner even more. “I’m just too popular for my own good, I guess.”
He shrugged, watching carefully for his partner’s twitch. Satoru didn’t disappoint.
“So you were late because you couldn’t resist flirting around?” Satoru’s eyes narrowed, and he advanced, forcing Damien back a few steps.
Damien really thought about letting his partner think that, it would certainly keep him riled up, but only for a moment. Suddenly he was tired of arguing with his partner, it seemed they really did little else. As fun as it might be to push his partner’s buttons, and as hot as the man might be when he was worked into a rage, Damien’s heart just was not in it today. His earlier conversation with Christopher still played in the back of his mind. What he wouldn’t give to go back to bed and pretend he’d never heard the name “Etherica.”
“No, I wasn’t,” his tone was resigned, “I had lunch with Arman and then Christopher stopped me in the hall on the way here. You have to admit, between the two they probably are half the organization.” His eyes rose from the floor, a little bit of a smirk rising to his eyes though not to his lips, “You’d probably be the other half.”
Satoru hesitated a moment, catching on to Damien’s shift in mood, “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t tell them you had business.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed, “Not everyone feels it necessary to tell everyone to piss off if things go off schedule.” He sighed and turned towards the door, “I don’t feel like this right now. Just . . . I’ll see you at home later.”
Satoru reached out to grasp Damien’s wrist, moving far too fast for his partner to anticipate his movement. He grip was just firm enough to hold Damien in place and he jerked his partner back to face him. Damien did not put up much resistance, not nearly as much as Satoru would have expected from his spirited partner. Instead the taller man just stared back at him wearily.
“This isn’t like you,” Satoru said simply. He loosened his grip on Damien’s wrist, but he did not let go. “Something’s up.”
“No shit,” Damien glared at him, wrenching his arm away. “How nice of you to actually notice for once.”
Satoru opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again. He was not really sure how to answer Damien, unused to the man showing any emotion except his annoying humor, and was fairly certain the taller man was not looking for a response anyway. He stood his ground, searching for something to say just to break the silence.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
Damien stared at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he obviously struggled for something to say. “You . . . you . . . you,” he growled in frustration. “Are you really so socially retarded or do you just enjoy playing with people’s heads?”
He turned abruptly and marched out of the room, not even bothering to close the door, before Satoru could even react. Staring after him Satoru stood in shocked silence, left uncomfortably unsure of what had just happened and what he should do next.
“What the hell?” he muttered; picking up his folder along with Damien’s abandoned one. “Fuck women and PMS, he puts them all to shame.” He shook his head and exited the room, flipping off the lights and closing the door securely.
If he was lucky Damien would lock himself in his room and they’d avoid round two back at the apartment. He pushed the nagging part of his mind that insisted this was not at all like Damien. He pushed the thoughts back because, after all, it seemed his partner was not going to tell him anything. Damien acted like it should be obvious to him, even. Satoru stifled a groan, promising himself he was taking aspirin when he got back to his office.
“Might as well be living with a woman,” he muttered again, heading off towards his office. That was his final thought on the matter, so far as he was concerned. Now he just had to get that annoying part at the back of his mind to agree.
Man, I write so slow ;__; At about 8,000 words.
Chapter One
Damien stared sullenly at the inked medicine wheel on his left wrist. So many meanings were wrapped up in the tattoo, and not all of them were strictly related to the history of the symbol itself. It was protection. That was all their small crew had been told, that was all that Satoru himself had been told. He, however, knew better.
He glanced up at Arman, speaking softly, “Are you really sure you want to give everyone the mark?”
Arman sighed, fingering the matching tattoo on his own left wrist, “It’s safer this way. After all, the rebels aren’t the only ones hiding out in Babylon. The wheel will still be remembered-its reputation made sure of that.”
“But is a memory really powerful enough to make a difference?” Damien frowned at Arman.
Arman smiled, “It’s not the memory we’re counting on. It’s the association that comes with the wheel-not just anyone comes by that mark. No one will mess with you.”
“I’m sure.” Damien covered the tattoo with his uniform sleeve. “As you say, not just anyone comes by the mark. You are aware of what this means, then?”
“It means nothing,” Arman waved him away. “The gang is part of the past.” He looked up at Damien, cutting off the younger man’s retort, “It may be disrespectful, Damien, but sometimes you do what you have to do.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Arman smiled at him, “If that’s how it is, then make sure they become worthy of it, Brigadier.”
The corner of Damien’s mouth lifted into a grin, “Yes, sir. They won’t know what hit them.”
“I’ll count on that.” Arman smirked as he noted the time on his watch, “You might want to run along, though. You’re already going to be late for your little partner’s meeting.”
“Oh, shit!” Damien muttered under his breath, giving a nod to Arman. “I want vodka served at my funeral, got that?”
Arman’s chuckle followed him out as Damien shut the door behind him, giving a slight nod to Arman’s secretary before passing out of the office and into the hall. He felt a little more confident about the upcoming mission. Speaking with Arman had reminded him that he had the upper hand on his partner for once. They would see where being snarky got his partner now.
He knew much more about the situation they were about to jump into than did his partner, if he was honest he really knew more than he wanted to; which brought to mind the thing bothering him the most: his placement on the mission. He had not thought it the time to question Arman just yet, but it bothered him all the same. Whether coincidence, and with Arman he thought not, or on purpose he was deep enough in this particular situation that he could not act without personal bias. That was something he knew could potentially endanger the mission, and so he again wondered at Arman’s actions. The man knew better than almost anyone just how involved he was.
“He doesn’t even know who we’re going up against,” Damien muttered, shaking his head as his thoughts drifted back to his partner, “But I do, for better or worse.”
“You do what?” Damien nearly jumped as a smooth voice cut into the silence of his thoughts.
He turned, smiling as he recognized Christopher. Christopher was the type of person, Damien thought, who should have been a pediatrician. The man was certainly bouncy enough to keep up with any child. With his easy smile and agreeable personality the man was perfectly suited to his profession as a doctor, he oozed bed-side manner. Not for the first time, Damien wondered just how Christopher had ended up in Etherica. He was probably the only one on the staff who ranked below the criteria for psychic ability, which meant he certainly had not been drafted. He had always assumed that Christopher had just been following his significant other, but Gabriel had left long ago and yet Christopher remained.
“Was just talking to myself,” he replied. Damien usually enjoyed Christopher’s company, but at the moment he just hit far too close to home. There was, in fact, no one who could be closer to the center of the problem that still remained in the facility.
The doctor rested a hand firmly on Damien’s shoulder, guiding him into an unoccupied room. It would seem Christopher had firmly set himself against Damien’s unvoiced wish to be left alone. Damien’s eyebrow rose as the door was shut behind him, the lock clicking into place. Christopher’s face was uncharacteristically serious as he turned around to face the younger officer. Damien blinked, taken aback.
“You’ve been put on that mission, correct?” Christopher had steepled his fingers, the tips lightly touching, in a movement Damien had long ago decided was a nervous gesture on the part of the doctor.
“You.” Damien’s eyes narrowed, beginning to connect some dots that he had not seen before. “You are why I’m on this mission.”
“Well,” Christopher hedged, drawing out the word a few beats, “it was rather convenient that Arman had already decided to assign your partner to it. He clearly favors that man.”
“Have you looked at his peer officers?” Damien’s tone was incredulous. “There’s just no contest.”
“You favor him as well,” Christopher commented, tactfully ignoring Damien’s blush. “However, I can see your point. Etherica has been getting sloppy.”
“I’m still not sure how I haven’t made Lieutenant General, what with those fuck-ups that are there now,” Damien growled out.
“Perhaps it’s because you’re too enamored of your partner to break your partnership? There’s too much work to be done for you to remain partners if you both had rank, even with a partner as reputedly admirable as yours,” Christopher suggested cheekily. “Because I have no doubt you would shirk your duties like the current officers.”
“Oh, shut up!” Damien glared at him, he hated when the few people who were aware teased him about his crush on his partner.
“To finish answering your accusation: yes, I did request you put on this mission. However, Arman had already decided to place you both, so it didn’t really matter.” Christopher fiddled his fingers a bit, pausing. “You’ll watch over him, right?” They both know who he was referring to.
Damien sighed, “I’ll do what I have to do, Chris. You can’t ask more of me. Your kid brother’s really dug himself a hole.”
“I know,” Christopher closed his eyes. “I just wish that everything would work out. He never has been able to sit still and keep his mouth closed.”
“We all do, Chris. We all do.” He sighed again, “I’m sure we’ll work this out one way or another. No one wants to see blood shed except the damned president.”
“I have faith in you,” Chris smiled at him.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” Damien shook his head, feeling like utter shit as he unlocked the door and left the room.
He only hoped he didn’t let Christopher down. Some things in life were considerably worse than death. Being the cause of Christopher’s sadness was one of them; consequently, facing Arman’s wrath after letting Christopher down was another. All in all, it left him with a sick feeling that he was truly fucked.
“That’s it!” he swung his arms out dramatically in the middle of the empty hallway. “Everyone is out to give me a headache-bunch of fuckers.”
Resisting the urge to beat his head on a wall (there were several suitable ones located conveniently nearby), but only just, Damien instead turned his feet towards the conference room and the meeting with his partner and their crew he was becoming disastrously late for. Life just got better and better.
“I should get a goddamned medal for putting up with this place and everyone in it.”
______________________________________
Satoru glanced at his wristwatch for what had to be the fiftieth time-and Damien was still late. His only satisfaction was that he was making everyone else develop a nervous tic. He checked his watch again, wondering what had happened to his partner and, a little less seriously, if the man was purposely trying to drive him mad. Damien had better have a good excuse for driving him up a wall, his partner knew better than anyone else what his policies on tardiness were, and about his anal streak that made it so important.
There was a soft knock, it echoed in the dead silence of a room where no one was brave enough to speak for fear of setting Lieutenant General Fujiwara off. A different truant shuffled in self-consciously, shrinking under the heated glare Satoru sent him and skittering towards a vacant seat. Satoru barely managed to keep his growl silent, glancing at his watch once more. Thirty-three minutes, forty-two seconds late, and counting. Another of the men twitched at the far end of the table. Satoru smirked.
Ten minutes later, just as Satoru was beginning to feel homicidal, Damien finally arrived. He did not bother to knock, simply opening the door and closing it behind him with a soft click. He sat down in the chair next to Satoru, settling a pile of folders on the table-the only reason Satoru had not just started the meeting without him.
“Everyone here?” Damien glanced up and looked around the long table.
Satoru wanted to smack him.
“Good,” Damien grinned, “I’ve got a file for each of you here. They’re identical, so just take one and pass it along.” He took the top to files off the stack and passed the others along. One of the two he kept for himself, the thickest he pushed towards Satoru. “Yours, of course, is more in-depth, Lieutenant General.”
Satoru took it from him wordlessly, fixing Damien with a glare. He must suffer for his lateness. Damien merely grinned in response.
“The information in these files is for reference, though I suggest you familiarize yourself with it intimately,” Damien waggled his eyebrows suggestively, grinning when several people coughed to, presumably, cover up a laugh. “Most of it’s just stuff we’re going to go over anyway.”
Satoru butt in, “So if you don’t mind, let’s get to business.”
“As the boss-man says,” Damien grinned. He stood up so that he was at the front of the room and in the approximate center of the table. “Alright then, welcome aboard, kiddies! Please remember that the Lieutenant General and I expect only the best out of you as officers of Etherica. I hope I need not stress that failure on this mission will not be tolerated and will be duly punished-in short: don’t screw up.”
He paused to look around the table. No one appeared too intimidated yet-he hoped that was a good sign, rather than a bad one. Sometimes miracles really did happen. At least, he preferred to believe it was so.
“I am Brigadier Deardorf, your second-in command. Make fun of my name and you will sorely regret it, boys. Lieutenant General Fujiwara will be commanding this mission, as you should already know. Learn to fear him, I’m not joking.
“First things, first, I have a little check-list to go over with all of you. If you lack anything from the following list you are probably here by mistake. If not, let us know immediately so that it can be provided for you. Chase me so far?”
His audience seemed to be following, at least so far as Damien could tell. He pulled out a sheet from the top of his folder and cleared his throat.
“Alright, then. First of all, see this?” Damien pulled down his left sleeve, exposing the medicine wheel tattoo. “You all should have had one of these done. If you haven’t already you’ll be kicked from the mission. There’s not enough time left for it to heal properly. We’ve done our best to grey the ink to make the tattoos look older, but it’s not really going to fool anyone who studies it closely. Dr. Mordaunte has some medicine available to accelerate the healing process of the skin; I suggest you make use of it as it will make everything seem more legit.
“Secondly, you all should have been issued a handgun, standard Etherica make-we aren’t dealing with ghosts so nothing special, three rounds of ammunition-we’ll have spares but use your ammo wisely, and a small knife. You should be able to conceal these easily. Do so or you’ll attract unwanted attention where we’re going. You think the ghetto is bad, it’s got nothing on this place”
Damien paused there, letting his eyes wander over the group. His eyes rested on Satoru’s, lingering there before passing back over the group.
“That clear, kiddies? If you aren’t prepared you had best make arrangements ASAP. Liuetenant General Fujiwara is not very forgiving-I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors. They aren’t exaggerated.”
Damien was slightly relieved to see that at least that statement got a nervous reaction. Overconfidence could be a very poisonous attribute, and it was one he intended to remedy quickly in this group. Lack of confidence was just as deadly, but he and Satoru had been careful to weed out that element at the beginning of their selection.
“So now that we’ve got that cleared up, let’s move on to the real important stuff. Up to this point, none of you have been told much about this mission in detail. Simply that it was highly classified and you’d be paid to keep your mouth shut. And I will reiterate that-not a word of what is discussed in this meeting is to leave this room.
“Our primary objective is espionage and infiltration. I assume that all of you know about the ruins of old New York City? Babylon, as they are more commonly known now. Various outlaws and criminals have been gathering there for decades now, it’s quite the cesspit for smuggling and the black market-and a significant contributor to the illegal ghosts we have to deal with from time to time. Beyond that it has also been harboring something far more dangerous, something which has been kept confidential to only the highest officers in the Etherica organization: escaped talents have been gathering there as well. This is just one reason we need to be cautious, we aren’t necessarily dealing with average citizens with low psychic levels, we’re dealing with higher level psionics that should have been initiated into the organization.”
He paused to give his words time to sink in, and paused even longer to let the room fall silent as the men expressed their surprise. After all, it was officially unheard of to escape from Etherica’s grasp once you scored a high enough psychic level. None of the people they would be facing should exist, according to the official record.
“These rebel psionics have banded together to form a group whose priority seems to be the destruction of the organization. The first part of our mission is to infiltrate this group and verify the truth of these rumors. If they prove true, at that point we are to bring the group down by whatever means necessary.”
He swallowed, closing his eyes and sending a silent apology to Christopher.
“Is that clear?” There was no response indicating otherwise, so he continued, “We have some preliminary maps from earlier missions, you’ll find a copy of those in your folder, if you please. The buildings marked with red X’s are the most probable locations for the base of the vigilante group. As of yet its precise location has not been verified.
“We will enter the Babylon ruins in two weeks. Dress as civilians so you blend in, I hope I need not press the importance of not standing out so don’t overdo it. The tattoos you have received are the mark of an old but infamous gang. The worst of the criminals should be wary of that mark, so don’t be afraid to use it but don’t go flashing it around either. It will jeopardize all of us if one of you pick a fight with the wrong person and can’t back that mark up. Keep your head down low and your ears open, men. We’ll go over the operation in more detail in two weeks on our way to the ruins, in the meantime Lieutenant General Fujiwara and I have to review the mission plan and revise it. If there are no questions then I’ll turn the floor over to the Lieutenant General.”
Greeted with silence, Damien returned to his seat as Satoru stood with his back held rigidly straight in the awful manner that made it painfully clear just how uptight his partner truly could be. The Asian marched to the front of the room and eyed each man, looking them in the eye until each subordinate officer looked away from his icy gaze. Damien did not blame them, when Satoru got that look he seemed to be sizing up your very soul. It was more than creepy.
“I see that some of you have got your act together,” Satoru deadpanned. “Let us hope the rest follow your example.” He paced back and forth slowly, hands firmly clasped behind his back. “This mission is dangerous; don’t let Brigadier Deardorf’s flippant attitude delude you. It is not fun, and it is certainly no game. Your fellow comrades might live or die by your actions. You will behave yourselves at all times, be commendable to the organization and follow the orders given to you. We will meet at 500 hours in two weeks time. Be there early and come prepared, that includes you Brigadier Deardorf.
“You will get no second chances, boys. This isn’t a training exercise, this is for real. Sober up and keep the stakes in mind.”
He came to a full halt, turning to face the men. “You are dismissed for now. If you have further questions please see Brigadier Deardorf. Study the contents of your folders closely.”
Satoru waited for the men to depart before cornering Damien. Damien was grateful for small favors, though he would prefer to have avoided a confrontation period. As it was, he could tell his partner was absolutely livid as he turned to him. Standing, Damien took a step backwards towards the wall, despite himself. The Lieutenant General was stunning when he was angry, stunning in the way of a tornado charging full-force. He swallowed and forced himself to meet his partner’s angry stare.
“Did you have something you wanted to talk about?” If anything Satoru’s expression got darker at Damien’s teasing tone.
“Why were you forty-three minutes and thirty-seven seconds late?” Satoru was using the careful and precise deadpan he only used when struggling not to strangle someone, anyone else would be afraid for their life, Damien was merely accustomed to it.
Damien’s eyebrow rose mentally, not sure what to make of Satoru actually keeping that close count of his tardiness. He had known his partner was a little obsessive-compulsive, but this certainly took the cake. He filed the information away to analyze later, focusing on responding.
Damien grinned nervously, “Oh, that. Half the organization felt the need to waylay me in the hall.” He carefully schooled his face into a smirk which he knew would only agitate his partner even more. “I’m just too popular for my own good, I guess.”
He shrugged, watching carefully for his partner’s twitch. Satoru didn’t disappoint.
“So you were late because you couldn’t resist flirting around?” Satoru’s eyes narrowed, and he advanced, forcing Damien back a few steps.
Damien really thought about letting his partner think that, it would certainly keep him riled up, but only for a moment. Suddenly he was tired of arguing with his partner, it seemed they really did little else. As fun as it might be to push his partner’s buttons, and as hot as the man might be when he was worked into a rage, Damien’s heart just was not in it today. His earlier conversation with Christopher still played in the back of his mind. What he wouldn’t give to go back to bed and pretend he’d never heard the name “Etherica.”
“No, I wasn’t,” his tone was resigned, “I had lunch with Arman and then Christopher stopped me in the hall on the way here. You have to admit, between the two they probably are half the organization.” His eyes rose from the floor, a little bit of a smirk rising to his eyes though not to his lips, “You’d probably be the other half.”
Satoru hesitated a moment, catching on to Damien’s shift in mood, “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t tell them you had business.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed, “Not everyone feels it necessary to tell everyone to piss off if things go off schedule.” He sighed and turned towards the door, “I don’t feel like this right now. Just . . . I’ll see you at home later.”
Satoru reached out to grasp Damien’s wrist, moving far too fast for his partner to anticipate his movement. He grip was just firm enough to hold Damien in place and he jerked his partner back to face him. Damien did not put up much resistance, not nearly as much as Satoru would have expected from his spirited partner. Instead the taller man just stared back at him wearily.
“This isn’t like you,” Satoru said simply. He loosened his grip on Damien’s wrist, but he did not let go. “Something’s up.”
“No shit,” Damien glared at him, wrenching his arm away. “How nice of you to actually notice for once.”
Satoru opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again. He was not really sure how to answer Damien, unused to the man showing any emotion except his annoying humor, and was fairly certain the taller man was not looking for a response anyway. He stood his ground, searching for something to say just to break the silence.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
Damien stared at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he obviously struggled for something to say. “You . . . you . . . you,” he growled in frustration. “Are you really so socially retarded or do you just enjoy playing with people’s heads?”
He turned abruptly and marched out of the room, not even bothering to close the door, before Satoru could even react. Staring after him Satoru stood in shocked silence, left uncomfortably unsure of what had just happened and what he should do next.
“What the hell?” he muttered; picking up his folder along with Damien’s abandoned one. “Fuck women and PMS, he puts them all to shame.” He shook his head and exited the room, flipping off the lights and closing the door securely.
If he was lucky Damien would lock himself in his room and they’d avoid round two back at the apartment. He pushed the nagging part of his mind that insisted this was not at all like Damien. He pushed the thoughts back because, after all, it seemed his partner was not going to tell him anything. Damien acted like it should be obvious to him, even. Satoru stifled a groan, promising himself he was taking aspirin when he got back to his office.
“Might as well be living with a woman,” he muttered again, heading off towards his office. That was his final thought on the matter, so far as he was concerned. Now he just had to get that annoying part at the back of his mind to agree.