Fic: Blood Oaths, ch. 5
Title: Blood Oaths (ch. 5)
Author: Amethyst Hunter
Rating: R (violence, language, blood, all the happy fun things)
Warnings/Spoilers: See above. Also minor bits for the Venus de Milo/Voodoo Child/Lost Time arcs.
Disclaimer: I don't own GB or any of its glorious characters. Much like Akabane, I fic solely for my own enjoyment. Except I don't kill anybody. Well, only in print, that is. ;)
Summary: When Akabane loses his primary weapon, Himiko tries to protect him from all the glory-seekers wanting their whack at a declawed Jackal. In his weakest hour, will Akabane learn to trust in a power greater than his own?
--
Keeping secrets was not only second nature for Akabane; it was literally in his blood. His name, a secret unto itself, was proof enough for Himiko that any cards her erstwhile partner held would only be revealed when, and if, he chose. Not just because attempting to forcibly pry anything out of him was at best a dangerous move. Akabane's reputation was such that few were crazy enough to even think of doing so.
Himiko could admit that hidden in her heart was the lingering fear that Jackal would unleash his wrath upon her if she dared press his limits too far. She'd seen him in action, after all, and she could count on one hand, with fingers left over, the number of people who had lived after crossing him. But she also admitted to a certain theorizing that, over time, had begun to knit itself around the fear much like a pearl being layered inside its protective shell.
Eventually, that fear had taken a backseat to Himiko's intuition, and more and more, she was trusting to her instincts when it came to handling, even manipulating, Akabane.
He was aware of this, of course - he was observant and alert to a fault, as befitting his profession and his own wily nature. Himiko wasn't fooling herself on that account. The trick was to lead him on and then give free reign to anything that might follow. In this gentle guidance she hoped that he would grant her confession unbidden, and in doing so share the path of enlightenment that might also shed clarity upon her own shadowed chapters.
The night before the scheduled meeting with Akabane's source found them consolidating their plans: she at the kitchen table bottling her perfumes, he on the other side of it with her laptop, conducting yet another of his searches for whatever information he was seeking. They worked in companionable silence, the only noises in the room from Akabane's fingers ticking against the keys and the hisses and pops of corks being released or stoppered as Himiko prepared her poisons one by one.
Occasionally Himiko would look up, out of the corner of her eye, to study Akabane. He was watching the laptop screen in singular determination, neither smiling nor frowning. She found it fascinating to watch him in turn, noting the way his eyebrows slanted whenever he picked up something of interest, catching the subtle twitches of his lips if he was thinking something over. It was surprising how different he could look when he wasn't wearing his smile. His mouth had a natural downward turn that lent him a very serious appearance, especially when paired with his eyes set in steely concentration. The combination rendered him surprisingly human, and...appealing.
She'd always found his eyes bewitching. The purple secrets hidden within were about the only clue to his emotional state, made all the more beautiful by their odd shading. At first glance Akabane's pupils seemed to be a solid black, more so in dim lighting when that shadow was larger and took over most of the outer lavender limits. But if one was brave (some might say crazy) enough to get closer, it would become apparent that the black was actually a deeper, darker variation of purple, and within it yet still, an even richer ink as the plum descended into obsidian. At the heart of that darkness the pupil was almost slit-shaped, and waxed and waned like a cat's - an anomaly that was only visible in stark lighting or, in rare instances, when he was visibly disturbed.
The pattern reminded Himiko of wolves' eyes, that mesmeric electricity of the hunter engaged. Akabane was a Jackal, and he had plenty of wolfish instincts to spare - an uneasy reality that Himiko was trying to come to terms with in spite of this curious interlude that had landed the both of them together in close quarters.
They'd tentatively crafted a partnership apart from their mutual courier work, absorbing minor but crucial details gleaned from their interactions on the mundane level. It was almost comforting to know that they had similar tastes, things in common; what they differed on in terms of philosophies, they could at least grasp the concepts behind the other's adherences, if not completely understand or accept the reasons why.
This had worked well enough within their sphere as transporters. In a more intimate setting Himiko found it was wiser to proceed with extreme caution, lest she disturb a few of the comfortable illusions they each doubtless held about each other. She could appreciate that appearances held a certain significance for Akabane, as they did for her. Lady Poison, after all, was not a foolish, reckless female given to idle ponderances.
So she kept quiet and tended her potions, all the while aware of the possibility that as she was keeping tabs on him, so too was he assessing her, most likely in the clinical terms of a battlefield's context. She often wondered what it must feel like for him, always viewing everything with a detached lens. Such distance could have its benefits, she supposed. Being able to remain above the emotional fray meant that he could time his attacks with devastating intent, his skill with precision the final mark as the scalpels severed the threadbare cord separating life from death.
But too, she had also wondered, with no small amount of curiosity, whether he was ever able to feel anything beyond the taut expectation of a bloodlust. The frailness of his latent humanity, bled bare from his flesh in her home as she'd tended him, had given her a new regard for him, which she was still attempting to distill.
Himiko might have been even more intrigued if she had known what thoughts skittered across Akabane's mind while he was trying to pay attention to the contents unfolding in front of him on the laptop screen.
He wasn't looking at her, but he didn't need to. He was just as aware of her furtive peeks at him as he was of the shirt on his back - conscious, but not overly concerned, with the elusive feel of substance tracing his skin. Too, it helped that he was skilled in covert observation. Past experience had gifted him with considerable talents. He could remain aware of another's energies and commit the bulk of his focus to the work in front of him, all without having to submit to outside distractions.
So it was with no small amount of confusion and intrigue that he found his mind wandering to his would-be caretaker.
Akabane found her a fascinating entity to be acquainted with; this he had never faltered in admitting to himself, for he prided himself on his ability to accurately summarize and analyze other people according to his standards. Himiko had a will of pure steel, passion in her pride, and a fierceness in battle - both verbal and physical - unmatched by few competitors. She was just as likely to latch onto an enemy with teeth and fists flying as she was to grant useless mercy. But even in that she had a peculiar honor, one not unlike his own, and he could respect the importance it held for her, one reason why, in spite of his own interests, he refused to interfere with the course of a decision she'd set whenever they were working together. So long as her intentions avoided conflict with his own, he would readily refrain from imposing his will over hers.
She had amassed considerable skill during the time they'd known each other. She had grown faster, stealthier, stronger. Even now while they tended their separate tasks, he found a certain pleasure in being near her, an appreciation for the steady manner in which she refilled and bottled each of the deadly little bottles containing her magic. Her hands, small and tempered from meticulous labor, worked quickly and efficiently while she measured, poured, and sealed ingredients. If not for her revulsion concerning blood, she might well have made an excellent surgeon in her own right.
No. It wasn't as simple as that. Himiko wasn't afraid of blood. Nor was she sickened unduly by it - she had a higher tolerance than most humans for its messiness. He'd known her to fight straight on through injuries that were bleeding waterfalls, and he'd seen her grit her teeth through a pale calmness while she bore witness to wounds that would have sent lesser men vomiting into the nearest gutter. It was the finality of death itself, the crossing of a line drawn, that repelled her, and it was nothing that, in her humanity, he could fault her for. Nor did he hold her in lesser regard because she had made clear - repeatedly - her disapproval of his willingness to draw that line with his blade.
He didn't need her to understand his reasons. It was enough, and all that he cared, that she accepted without (much) quarrel his predilections. Though it did give him slight pause to realize that secretly, it might have been as great a thrill as any if ever she had dared challenge him on this front - and it bothered him on some unconscious level that he wasn't keen on exposing light to...the notion that he would have been truly disheartened if she had taken that risk and thus, its consequences.
Akabane sifted through the layers of windows piling up onscreen, drawing his attention back to where it ought to lie instead of upon the slender weapons of his erstwhile partner's fingertips. He had touched those hands before. Always in a professional context, of course. It never failed to impress him how hands could convey so much about a person, how deceptively light and innocent Himiko's hands could seem to one who did not know her the way he did, only to be continually refreshed by the sudden and surprising strength she could exhibit when she chose.
The gentleness in her touch as she'd overseen his slow, struggling recovery he'd expected, even come to enjoy. Such was natural from the feminine mystique. But there was something else there, a hint of what might be termed spirit, that he always sensed from her, and he would have provoked it further for the sheer devilish glee of it just to see her reaction, if not for the concern that she might overstep her own boundaries in a fit of temper and send him reeling into ruin with an ill-timed blow that he wasn't prepared to reciprocate. They had, if not an outright trust, an...understanding...between them. The least he could do was to honor that for however long he graced her home.
Which, in spite of the oddly comfortable routine they'd established at present, Akabane hoped would not be much longer. He was anxious to resume his normal activities, ones that Himiko might have been surprised to learn did not necessarily include lethal battle. He could just as easily find stimulation from nonviolent avenues - it was merely a matter of choice and his desire.
That topic brought him back to her once more. He was at a loss to grasp why she would assist him, other than to conclude that it was part of her sense of honor and obligation. She knew full well that his brush with death hadn't inspired any sudden resolve to alter his wayward path, no trite resolution to journey towards any sort of repentance. Why, then, would she choose to help him, knowing that he would only return to his usual habits?
It was a mystery Akabane had decided to put aside for want of a satisfactory answer, yet it kept returning to rub at the edges of his thoughts like a stuck grain of sand. Helping out of altruism implied caring. Caring hinted at connection, and that led towards...towards what? Something he could not - or would not - name...? But such didn't apply to him, at least he believed he had no inclinations for it...
The laptop chimed softly, a welcome return to his purpose. Akabane opened the email, expecting a reply to his query, and was annoyed but not unduly surprised to find that it was negative. Once again, another dead end.
His displeasure must have registered with Himiko, because she set down the bottle she was working on and looked at him. “No luck?”
Akabane glanced at her, then to the screen, then at her again, composing himself before he spoke. “A minor setback. It's only a matter of time.”
“What are you doing, anyway? Hacking the Babylon Archive?”
They both knew she'd meant it as a joke, but even so, Akabane caught himself before he started at her words, and was further irritated with himself for being so rattled. But Himiko's words had hit closer to the truth than he'd anticipated. For a moment he debated whether or not to bother with an answer. Then a thought occurred to Akabane. Indirectly, perhaps he could prompt her into showing him another route he hadn't yet tapped.
“No.” He deliberately paused. “I'm having Makubex-kun do that for me.” When she looked up at him with eyes widening slightly, he said, “I require certain information concerning Kagami, and this is the best way to go about getting it without alerting him to that fact.”
Himiko frowned. “Why don't you just access their system from the Other Side when you cross over? You're one of them, aren't you? The few that can bypass the great door?”
“You misunderstand my placement in the scheme,” Akabane said. “It's not so simple. Would that it were.” He braced for the inevitable peppering.
Himiko drew her legs underneath her as she shifted in her seat. “I never understood anything about your involvement over there. Were you one of the Trust members?” When he glanced at her, she said, “You're originally from Babylon City, aren't you?”
“I came from there, but I do not deal with the Trust factions themselves, unless you count Hakase.”
“Hakase...” Then she remembered. The specialist, the strange girl in white whose mind was ages beyond her physical form, and the one behind much of the Get Backers' mysterious destiny. “She's Trust?”
“One of them. Occasionally she hires me for certain jobs.”
Himiko tried to process this. “So if there are two main Trust groups, and she's one of those that were arranging for Ginji to be the lord of Mugenjou's world, and preserve it instead of the destruction that the Witch Queen prophesied...she's okay, isn't she? One of the good ones?”
Akabane raised a brow. “That depends on your definition of good. Either Trust faction has been known to engage in experiments that have questionable value. And Hakase knows what type of job I am best suited for.”
Himiko held back a shiver, and tested the waters. “So which side are you on?”
He looked at her, his eyes steady with inscrutable secrets. “I am on the same side as I have always been, and will always be. My own.”
Her eyes darkened at the evasive reply. “But if you have a working relationship with the specialist, why can't you just go through her instead of Makubex to get the information you want?”
“Discretion being the better part of valor, of course,” Akabane said with a shrug. “A seasoned hunter doesn't prematurely startle the prey he's after, hmm? It will be all the more satisfying for me when the time comes to pay back the Observer for the nuisance he has created for me, if he knows nothing of the storm gathering at his back.”
He turned his attention back to the laptop, starting up another series of communiques to send out to another possible source, and was thus caught somewhat off guard when Himiko continued. “But they know Makubex. They expect him to tap the Archive. He's done it before. Won't they take precautions against that, even with his skills?”
“Oh, I'm sure they're aware of it.” He took a few minutes to finish typing out a sentence. “Very little gets by without someone up there taking notice. But even the best security system in the world can't keep out an invader who's resourceful and persistent enough.”
“I didn't know you two were on such good terms.”
“It's more that we understand each other's protocol.” Akabane typed some more. “He wants answers and those I can grant, in spades. Makubex-kun knows this. In return he fulfills that which he knows I will expect of him, and we each are satisfied in our own little ways.” He concluded the missive he'd been preparing and hit send before looking up at Himiko again. “It's all purely business. Makubex-kun has dealt with Kagami himself. His insight should be particularly valuable.”
Himiko frowned again at that. “Sakura told me once, when they were putting together the IL, that she couldn't understand at first why a man like Kagami would submit to the will of a younger, less experienced leader. But she and Makubex figured it out - the only reason someone from the upper levels would do that is so they could divide and conquer through subterfuge.”
Akabane nodded. “It's been a timeless stratagem for a reason. For all his teenage distress Makubex-kun is a very astute general when it comes to conducting a battle. I imagine that's part of what prompted his placement in Lower Town to begin with.”
Himiko picked up an empty bottle, but did nothing with it other than to tap it gently on top of the table. “Maybe it's just me, but have you noticed that Brain Trust seems to have a thing for manipulating children? There's Makubex, of course, but others too. The Voodoo Children, like me. And my brother. And we all know about Ginji - “
“He was an anomaly they'd never intended from the start,” Akabane said. “It was their fatal error in judgment that they thought they could add him to their stockpiles after he'd been saddled with an unstable demigod. Why do you think the Witch Queen slammed the gates shut? There'd already been one catastrophe to drown the City in blood; the next one might have obliterated it entirely.” Something flashed behind his eyes then, but before she could ask him about it he quickly continued. “But you're right, it isn't just you. The Trust prefers children for experimental practicality. Blank slates are more malleable than adult ones.”
A sickening sensation squirmed in Himiko's insides. “My brother must've known. He never wanted to talk about it with me. He just always warned me to stay away from Mugenjou because we were the hunted, the last of our lineage. But he'd never say exactly why.”
She sighed and let go of the bottle she'd been tampering with, putting her head down on her folded arms. “I still wish he'd told me. Something, anything. It would've saved so much trouble. I never understood why Yamato would share with Ban, but never me.”
She looked up at Akabane then, a fire dancing in her eyes. “And don't say it's an older brother thing. There's more to it than that.”
“What if it was?”
Himiko scowled. “He still owed me an explanation.”
He couldn't help but admire her stubbornness. “All of us are owed explanations at some time or another. A pity we don't always get what we want, isn't it?”
Himiko huffed quietly and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed against her chest. “Hah. As if you'd be content to accept a passive fate.”
“You're not exactly a delicate flower yourself,” Akabane pointed out, the hint of a smile tipping the edges of his lips.
“No.” Himiko's mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “I'm a hooligan. A boar. A churlish unpopular oaf.”
Something in her tone piqued Akabane's interest. “What fool had the stomach to make such a statement to you?”
She looked away, a thoughtful scowl darkening her face. “Some high schooler. Probably a spoiled daddy's princess. It doesn't matter now. Just someone I met once, working a random job for Ban.”
He had a feeling he knew who she meant. Extricating himself graciously from the meeting with his would-be admirer had taken considerable time and effort. “And you're going to let some stupid words from a mere child affect your entire self-concept?”
Himiko's cheeks reddened. “Of course not. It just...it reminds me of all the shit I had to wade through to become a successful agent. People still don't take me seriously. Some of them...never will.”
Her eyes met his, and he was struck by the intensity of the quiet emotion she kept simmering beneath her controlled facade. Something in her...some strange...connection, felt as though it were calling to him...
He wanted to dismiss the notion outright. But he couldn't. Her personal grievances may have differed from his, but they were approaching something close to kindred, and he felt compelled to honor that. He could understand it, in a way. He'd been there himself, as a young intern, striving to do his best to prove to the elder physicians who sneered down at their less experienced peers that he was just as capable as they were. Curious, that he should recall such life and remember the feelings associated with it. He'd thought that he'd long ago severed those ties.
Himiko spoke again, her soft voice underscored by a lifelong frustration. “You can't know what that's like, being put down in so many different ways because you're considered second-class by default. Even Ban and my brother did it. They didn't always mean to. But I could feel it, when they'd talk down to me like I couldn't understand what was going on. Like I was just a dumb baby.” She regarded him with a curious stare. “You're the only one who ever gave me a chance on my own merit. Well, you and Maguruma.”
“I don't know. Even he can be a bit on the patronizing side once in a while,” Akabane said. “If you heard half of what he says to me when it's just the two of us on assignment you'd find it a miracle that he's still alive.” He paused, smiling in wry thought. “I tolerate it only because I like his company, and he's the best driver around.”
“But still,” Himiko said. “You never judged me on a superficial basis. Even though you could have, had every right to. Because you're...” She sighed. “You're the best. The deadliest, but still the best. Instead you let me find my own way, gain my own experience, and you still treated me like an equal partner even when I screwed up. I owe you for that.”
Akabane was genuinely surprised. “For what?”
Himiko looked at him. “For trusting me. For believing in me. That means a lot to me.”
He wasn't sure what to say to that. He was inexplicably touched by her confession, and he didn't know whether to feel...flattered? Rankled? Delighted? “I could say the same for you, you know. Not many would willingly work alongside a coldblooded killer,” he pointed out.
Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe not so coldblooded. I've noticed. You have a...system.”
Akabane's brow arched. “Honor among thieves, is that it?”
“It's still honor. That's got to count for something...”
He was still dwelling over her words when they adjourned for their nightly movie before bedtime. It had become a ritual, same as their taking meals together or practicing his physical therapy. For one so young Himiko was almost as nostalgic as he was, and among the things they'd discovered that they both liked were older movies. Akabane watched while she put a disc in the player and nodded approvingly. “I always liked that one.”
“Yamato got a kick out of impersonating the lead actor for clients sometimes,” Himiko said as she picked up the remote control and settled alongside him on the couch.
“Oh? Did he do the dramatic scene from Key Largo?”
Himiko grinned. “No, it was the one from Casablanca. And yes, he reserved it for our female clients.”
“Ahh.”
They were content to watch in companionable silence. At one point Akabane shifted on the couch, trying to get more comfortable. His movements drew Himiko's attention, and though she was discreet about the sideways looks she was giving him, he was at a loss to understand why she should suddenly find him so fascinating.
“Is something wrong?”
There was the briefest flash of trepidation in her eyes, but she didn't flinch from confrontation. Himiko moistened her lips as she put the forbidden into spoken form. “How did you get your scars?”
Akabane was careful not to let his surprise show. It seemed like an unusual query at first, coming directly like that, but then when he tilted his head to look at her and felt the slip of his hair against the side of his exposed neck, he realized what was showing when his shirt collar had loosened.
The mark there was the least impressive of his distinctive traits. He hadn't even obtained it in a fight; he hardly ever thought of it himself, not considering a youthful indiscretion worth dwelling on. He would have expected greater curiosity concerning the prominent stripe branding his chest, shoulder and back.
Would Himiko understand? Could she truly know what had transpired in Sodumonado? She had been there with him, once, though not during the time of transcendence. She had seen enough to grasp the underworld's concepts for herself. Even so, she did not know the darkness like he did. And sympathy was not the same as empathy, though both were anathema to him. Emotion, connection, these were hindrances anymore. Weaknesses he could not afford to indulge. To do so would invite true death.
As startled - and annoyed - as he was to discover that a part of him still existed which would have welcomed shared confession, he was too long an outsider, too much of a professional to surrender to such urges. Yet...
Himiko was a professional too. If asked, she would perhaps be more likely than anyone else to safeguard anything he entrusted her with. She had already gone above the call of duty in rescuing and reviving him, knowing full well that she could expect little by way of compensation; she had done it all for her own sense of satisfaction. Hers was a strength to be respected, even reckoned with.
His continued silence made her think that he found the inquiry offensive. Himiko folded her hands in her lap, her posture losing some of its starch. “I'm sorry. That was personal. Call it a slip of professional curiosity.”
He could have cut her down with an acerbic remark. He would have done so with anyone else. But he knew the difference between morbid fascination and genuine interest, and he understood, on some instinctual level that he was reluctant to name, from which wellspring her foray into the unknown had arisen. “You would not believe me even if I did tell you,” Akabane said slowly at last.
She made herself meet his eyes, and the rare glimmer of honesty there, along with the quiet tone in which he'd answered, kept the impatience and frustration at his smooth evasion from leeching back into her voice. Akabane considered her important enough to treat her seriously and she'd said as much. She would have to trust that, in his own good time, in his own way, he would permit her to cross his boundaries as he saw fit.
“Why shouldn't I believe you? You're not a liar.” That was also the truth. He was sneaky, he was secretive, but never yet had he been outright dishonest.
He seemed pleased by her assessment, and a slight warmth surfaced in his gaze before it was submerged by a more common wariness. “Perhaps not. But I haven't been entirely honest with you before, either.”
“You have your reasons. I don't always agree with them. But I accept that that's the way it is with you,” Himiko said.
“A wise acknowledgment.”
There was a stretched quiet between them, filled only by the actors' dialogue onscreen as the hero disarmed his naysayers with blunt coolness. Finally Akabane said, “Would it be enough for you if I told you that maybe someday, if the time was right, I might share that story with you?”
Himiko held back the leap of her heart and nodded.
“It's not that I don't trust you.” It's that I don't trust myself. Akabane squelched that line of thought before it could even take root. “There are certain...factors, involved...”
Himiko felt like she'd just been granted a rare treasure. “You don't have to explain,” she hastened to assure him, even though that was exactly what she would have liked most at this moment.
He sought words to convey his tangled thoughts on the matter, wondering why he suddenly seemed incapable of stating it in simple terms that left little mystery to doubt. “It's...complicated, you see...”
“I know.” Himiko paused. “Fair's fair. If you're willing to share, so will I. I'll tell you some of my secrets...”
He indulged her with a calm smile. “You're not old enough to have accumulated secrets.”
Her eyebrow did a sharp arc. “Oh no? I could tell you a few things that'd make even your hair curl.”
It was a bold declaration from one of her tender age and could easily be seen as the brashness of such. Only the grit sparking behind her indigo gaze convinced him that she did, in fact, harbor some scintillating tales of her own. He found himself wondering what sort of a life she'd lived, that she should have experiences to tell.
He was thinking of asking her about it when she switched on him with fresh inquiry. “Akabane...why would Babylon City shut you out of the Archive when you're one of them?”
A clever one, indeed. How typical of the power of the voodoo child - an intuition that had always served her well. “You are assuming that every City dweller has access to the Archive.”
For the moment, he kept the displeasure of revisiting this topic out of his voice. Something in the way she'd asked him made him think that she'd found an angle he hadn't yet touched on, and that bothered him on several levels. “What makes you think that I cannot simply research that channel if I were of a mind to do so? I told you, I want to avoid alerting the enemy.”
“The system is rigged. You said so yourself.” When he looked at her, she elaborated. “When we were in Sodumonado. You told me - the peoples on each succeeding level of Mugenjou can't defeat the ones who are higher above them. But who can challenge the topmost ranks? Only another Babylonian, if there's a power struggle going on and there are multiple factions vying for total control. That's why the specialist hires you, isn't it? It's her group pitted against whoever else is trying to take over.”
“Divide and conquer, is that what you're saying?”
Himiko didn't flinch. “It works for a reason.”
Akabane had to give her credit. All this time, when she'd been quietly providing him with the outlet he needed to do his work, she'd managed to figure out what he was doing without becoming terribly intrusive or tipping him off to her intentions. Still, there was one crucial point she hadn't yet seemed to notice, and that was what most concerned him about her apparently insatiable interest. Deciding it would be better to concede this small win in favor of protecting the larger battle at hand, he deigned to give her a reply.
“I'm sure you understand by now as well as I do that the primary culprit responsible for my convalescence in your home bears no love lost between himself and Hakase. Kagami did, after all, have a vested interest in preventing the Get Backers from achieving their goal, whereas she stood to gain quite a deal of power if it were her plan that came to fruition.”
Himiko frowned. “So this is what? Revenge? As conceited a jerk as Kagami is, I can't see him going to this kind of trouble for a blood feud sparked by a rebellion that took place before he was even born. He values his own hide too much to risk getting it handed to him in a down and dirty fight. Did he really have so much resting on Mugenjou's fate?”
Akabane shrugged. “Who can say for certain. One thing I can promise you is that whatever else he is, he is most definitely an opportunist. Such men will lie in wait like spiders before pouncing on their prey.”
“Ugh. Don't remind me of spiders,” Himiko grumbled. “I had enough of that when I fought off Kirihito. I'm just glad that that clan came to its senses after Kabuto was defeated.” She paused in thought for a moment. “Of course, Genshu Miyama had a lot to do with that. Even though he couldn't convince Jorogumo to pull away from her course in time. But he put the doubt into her heart, so that probably helped when it came time for Ginji to confront her.”
She thought some more. “Made my work easier too. Miyama wanted to free all the insect clans of the Kiryuudo from their karmic curse. He asked me, before he died, to help him set them free. I kept that promise, with the altered insecticide perfume I created for him.” Somber remembrance shadowed her face as she reached back for those memories.
“Hmm. Just as I thought.” At Himiko's glance, Akabane continued. “Not long after the fall of Kabuto, Semimaru Kanade spoke to me of a sorceress who had created a potion to eliminate the curse in the remaining clans. He never mentioned her by name, but I always suspected it was you.”
She gave him a questioning look, the movie they were indulging in now long forgotten. “Semimaru Kanade... The same headman from the seven elders? The one who commanded the forest armies of the cicada people?”
“The very same. He was most impressed with your work,” Akabane added.
“So Ginji was right. You did know him.” The narrowing of his eyes made her briefly rethink the wisdom of touching this subject, but Himiko decided she had nothing to lose; it wasn't as if her cohort wouldn't give her ample warning before she'd strayed too far into dangerous territory. “He said that when you two met he could sense - “
“That we'd met from before,” Akabane said, his voice dipping into coolness. “Yes. I'm aware of that. Ginji-kun's altered state lent him the ability to pick up on the fluctuations in others' bodily energies, regardless of how minute those changes were. Aside from the fact that I'd been hired by Fuyuki-san to transport his lover back, that's why I went with him to Hell Valley. He was a very valuable detector for an enemy that excelled in stealth attacks.”
Himiko watched him thoughtfully. She'd touched on a sensitive spot all right, and if what she'd heard from Ginji was true... “Ginji said you two weren't necessarily enemies, though.”
“On this particular battlefield we were.” Purple eyes speared her with cold logic. “Politics, Himiko-san, truly makes for the most unusual alliances. The rest of the Kiryuudo promised my old friend something of infinite worth to him, something he could never have otherwise obtained, if he would take up the mantle of his burden once more and join with them. As a commander and strategist in combat, he was quite important to their plan, and everyone knew it.”
He nodded toward the television screen, where a fight was erupting. “We're missing the best part of the movie.”
She wasn't about to give up so easily now that her interest was piqued by the tracks she'd scented, but Himiko fell silent while they turned their attention to the screen. When the ending credits began to roll, however, she tossed out her last dart. “Surely Semimaru knew what toll Kabuto's war would take, that he could cross paths with you. And you?”
She hit the stop button on the controller and looked at him. Akabane could have been a stone statue, still as he was, as he regarded her with the same chilly detachment from earlier. Finally he spoke.
“All soldiers understand the risk they take in tempting death. It comes with the intimacy as naturally as does the blood beating in their bodies. War is never won by the side that fancies itself right, Himiko-san. Only by those who are left in its wake...if they are strong enough to survive the ravage.”
He reached for his cane and slowly got up, affording her a slight tip of his head. “I'd get some rest if I were you. Tomorrow is a busy day. Good night, Himiko-san.”
Himiko stayed on the couch for a while after he'd hobbled away to bed, wondering at this bitterness that could maim people so. Somehow, in spite of its emotionless tone, the very cut of his voice as he'd delivered that final salvo had conveyed a lethal knowledge of sacrifices that no mortal should have. That rawness had scarred its imprint on Akabane in more ways than one, and it made her glimpse of the vision all the more disturbing.
She had a sinking feeling that Babylon City subscribed to that war creed with a vengeance.
--
“You're sure you can walk all right.”
Himiko was not inclined to think so. As with any recovery from traumatic physical impairment, there were good days and bad days. Today was one of the latter. Just getting from the bedroom to the kitchen had left Akabane with a paleness not natural to his usual coloring, and his legs still trembled as he moved at a slower pace than his regular sinuous stride. She wondered if he'd slept about as well as she had, after last night's discussion of old and fresh wounds. But he was determined, even as he stiffly pulled on the dress shirt and trousers she'd bought for him, saving his infamous coat, hat, and gloves for last.
“Leave it,” he said when she tried again to offer him the cane after he'd finished knotting his tie. “It's too obvious.”
“You mean to walk on your own all the way from here to downtown, when you can't even keep from breaking a sweat just moving from room to room?” Himiko shook her head. “I think you should take it. Dangle it off your arm for show, the contact will never know the difference.”
“And then what? Twirl it about like some sort of circus performer?” Akabane scowled. “No. It's not something Jackal normally carries and the contact will know this. I refuse to ruin an important meeting over one ridiculous detail.”
Himiko tightened her lips, but hooked the cane's handle over the back of a chair. She reached into her harness and pulled out a small bottle, which she pressed into Akabane's hand.
He peered at it with a frown, then looked at her. “What's this for?”
“Antidote scent. You'll need it after today. It's mostly for canceling out the effects of my other poisons, but it can also be used as a mild healing aid. I used it to keep you alive when I found you.”
Akabane was about to reject that offer too, thought better of it, and reconsidered. Today was going to be a trying time, and if he were to be candid with himself about it, he was going to need all the assistance he could get.
He pocketed the little bottle in his coat and nodded. “Thank you.”
“I'm ready whenever you are.”
“Good. If you'll kindly bring me my hat, we can leave any time then.”
Himiko went to get the infamous object of much scrutiny by both foes and fen alike, from where it was perched atop the wall hook. On her way she passed by one of the kitchen windows, and as she glanced up, letting her fingers tip apart a few of the blinds from habit, she was greeted with an unwelcome sight. “Great. My fan club is here again.”
She turned around to make another remark about it to Akabane, and her smile dropped at about the same time his did. Himiko instantly knew the appearance of the surveillance team that had been following her for some time was a very ill omen, if the frigid tension snapping Akabane's body into stillness was any indication. But she'd sensed this all along, hadn't she? Now it seemed payment had come due...
He spoke, his voice quiet but chilled. “How many?”
Himiko ventured closer at an angle to the window, glad that the shading there helped to spoil any view indoors for the outsiders. She counted. “Two that I can see, but they're driving a van, so there could be more inside it.” She heard the ominous rustle of coat fabric behind her. “They're from the City,” she said, making it a statement as Akabane padded up to the window to have a look. She didn't miss the way his lips thinned at the sight of their stalkers, and the bad pangs she was feeling grew.
“Yes.”
“What kind of threat are they?” she said, flipping a bottle of perfume into her fingers, thumb poised to pop the cork.
Akabane studied the imposition and their transport. Not top quality, but not cheap muscle either, just as Himiko had told him. Definitely a problem in any case. “None, for now. Sentinels don't act unless directed to. Their function is merely to report on our movements.”
“So we can't leave the apartment,” Himiko guessed sourly.
“Not without an audience knowing what we plan to do.” Akabane tracked the first man's steps. He was strolling around the other side of the van now, toking on a half-dwindled cigarette. “At least we can thank our lucky stars that worse hasn't shown up yet.”
“They have worse?”
Akabane took his fingers away and let the blinds fall closed. He turned away from the window and looked at her. “As of this moment there are exactly two people alive who know what's become of Doctor Jackal. How long do you think that peace will last once confirmation of my existence reaches those streets out there?”
He let her digest that for a minute while they focused again on the spies outside. “What can we do, then?” Himiko finally asked.
Akabane didn't answer. He stepped away from the window and paced through the kitchen, brows furrowed in thought. “Do you have someone you trust to watch your place?”
Himiko was confused. “Ban probably would, freeloader that he is. I'll call him right now - “
He grasped her arm before she could reach for her phone. “No, don't. They'll have tapped your line.” His face darkened then. “For all we know, they may even have us miked.”
“Miked?”
“Rifle microphones. They can be fitted onto anything weaponized, usually a firearm,” Akabane said. “All the sentinels have to do is point them at a structure that isn't reinforced and they can listen in on whatever they want. It's possible to block them somewhat, but with these windows whatever concrete your building is made out of won't be enough to obscure conversation entirely.”
He turned again to the window, nudging back a few of the blinds. The action, what there was of it, didn't seem to have changed any. The visible man was still strolling, still puffing on his cigarette, which was now a stub. He flicked it to the ground and stepped on it, twisting his foot to grind out the embers. Conscientious sort, Akabane thought derisively.
The second man was now in view. He had been sitting in the driver's seat; he exited the vehicle and ambled over to chat with his partner. They seemed jovial enough, trading commentary as the first man lit up another cigarette. They didn't appear to be in any rush.
Akabane took note of their van. Plain white, large but not overly so, without any outstanding features. It looked like a regular delivery van, which was likely why they'd chosen it. They could pass as just another business outfit dropping off goods or servicing neighborhoods.
Akabane thought it over some more. He decided that they probably weren't outfitted with rifle mikes, or other surveillance equipment. For all its high-tech capability the City often liked to utilize traditional methods. Technology was so rampant anymore that people were more aware of it while becoming less aware of the tangible world around them. Such distraction could make it easier for an enemy to approach undetected. Paranoia could be a useful weapon as well.
Either way, they had to move before the sentinels - or their superiors - did.
Akabane pulled back from the window. Himiko was looking at him, but she didn't say anything right away, and for this he was grateful. They looked at each other for several minutes, each sorting out their dilemma.
Then Himiko plucked out one of her perfume bottles. “Wait. I have an idea.”
She uncapped the vial and prepared the spell, sealing it carefully inside. “Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can.”
“Where are you going? You can't leave with those men out there - “
“I'm not going anywhere.” Himiko held up the perfume bottle. “But this is. Watch.”
Akabane hobbled after her. Himiko stuck the perfume back in her harness and went around to her bedroom, on the other side of the building, where the sentinels presumably couldn't have full sight of their targets. She unlatched the window and opened it, pulling on the tabs that kept the screen in place, and removed this, laying it aside. “Stay put in case they sneak around the back,” she told Akabane as she climbed out onto the fire escape. “If they spot just me they won't be as suspicious.”
It was his turn to be confused. “What do you think you're doing? You can't ambush them, they'll be prepared for such an attack!”
“I'm not attacking them. I'm going behind their backs,” Himiko replied as she clambered down the metal ladder. When she touched the ground she pulled out her bottle again - the message scent. She uncapped it and spewed the perfume along as wide a trajectory as she could. There was a light breeze in the air. Good.
She stood back and waited. Not more than a few minutes passed while the scent dispersed, and suddenly a bedraggled mutt came trotting out of the alley. Himiko let it come up to her and sniff her hand. The dog sat without her having to tell it, and waited while she prepared a new message perfume. This one she sealed and offered to the dog. The animal gently took the little bottle between its teeth, chuffed agreeably at her, and jogged back into the shadows from where it had materialized.
“Mind telling me what the devil that was all about?” Akabane demanded once Himiko had climbed back up the fire escape.
She looked decidedly smug as she crawled through the open window. “Message perfume works on animals too, just not the same way as humans. But it'll do for our purposes. I basically told him to get Shido Fuyuki. He can watch my place while we're gone.”
Akabane stared at her, duly impressed with her subterfuge. “Bloody brilliant of you, I must admit.”
“Thanks.” She shut the window without replacing the screen and dusted off her palms on her thighs. “Now what do we do?”
“Pack an overnight bag. You may not wish to return here for a while.”
She looked at him, but he didn't elaborate further, so she went to do as he said. On a hunch, she made sure that some of her most powerful perfumes - and the recipe book she used to make them - were tucked securely in the small backpack she put together.
When she was done ten minutes later she went looking for Akabane. She found him sitting hunched over on her couch, head bowed as if in meditation - or exhaustion. “Should we call Maguruma and get him to help us escape?”
“No. Call emergency and report a fire in the building.”
“But there's no fire - “
Akabane looked up with a pointed gleam in his eye, aimed at Himiko's perfume harness. “There will be.”
Not long after this discussion the Babylonians keeping watch outside were finally pleased to see some activity at the building they had been assigned to stake out. Their interest was short-lived, however, when the fire trucks and ambulances screaming into the yard proved to have nothing to do with their quarry and instead went after the large plume of smoke billowing from the backside of one of the empty offices.
The sentinels fell back to a side street, having been herded off by several arriving police cruisers as law enforcement quickly corralled the scene from any gawking bystanders. While the firefighters determined that no human lives were endangered and set about dousing the flames - arson investigators would later find that the blaze originated from some sort of incendiary chemicals - the sentinels hired to stalk Doctor Jackal and Lady Poison, in the guise of detectives, entertained themselves chatting up a few of the local residents in an effort to learn what little they could about certain people who lived in the affected building.
In all the commotion of sirens and spraying hydrant water, voices barking orders through bullhorns and radios, personnel racing back and forth from their respective jobs to the scene, or to convey messages from their bosses to officials awaiting word, no one noticed a young woman with a backpack and a tall man in black slip as phantoms through the haze of smoke-filled sunlight.
--
TBC
Author: Amethyst Hunter
Rating: R (violence, language, blood, all the happy fun things)
Warnings/Spoilers: See above. Also minor bits for the Venus de Milo/Voodoo Child/Lost Time arcs.
Disclaimer: I don't own GB or any of its glorious characters. Much like Akabane, I fic solely for my own enjoyment. Except I don't kill anybody. Well, only in print, that is. ;)
Summary: When Akabane loses his primary weapon, Himiko tries to protect him from all the glory-seekers wanting their whack at a declawed Jackal. In his weakest hour, will Akabane learn to trust in a power greater than his own?
--
Keeping secrets was not only second nature for Akabane; it was literally in his blood. His name, a secret unto itself, was proof enough for Himiko that any cards her erstwhile partner held would only be revealed when, and if, he chose. Not just because attempting to forcibly pry anything out of him was at best a dangerous move. Akabane's reputation was such that few were crazy enough to even think of doing so.
Himiko could admit that hidden in her heart was the lingering fear that Jackal would unleash his wrath upon her if she dared press his limits too far. She'd seen him in action, after all, and she could count on one hand, with fingers left over, the number of people who had lived after crossing him. But she also admitted to a certain theorizing that, over time, had begun to knit itself around the fear much like a pearl being layered inside its protective shell.
Eventually, that fear had taken a backseat to Himiko's intuition, and more and more, she was trusting to her instincts when it came to handling, even manipulating, Akabane.
He was aware of this, of course - he was observant and alert to a fault, as befitting his profession and his own wily nature. Himiko wasn't fooling herself on that account. The trick was to lead him on and then give free reign to anything that might follow. In this gentle guidance she hoped that he would grant her confession unbidden, and in doing so share the path of enlightenment that might also shed clarity upon her own shadowed chapters.
The night before the scheduled meeting with Akabane's source found them consolidating their plans: she at the kitchen table bottling her perfumes, he on the other side of it with her laptop, conducting yet another of his searches for whatever information he was seeking. They worked in companionable silence, the only noises in the room from Akabane's fingers ticking against the keys and the hisses and pops of corks being released or stoppered as Himiko prepared her poisons one by one.
Occasionally Himiko would look up, out of the corner of her eye, to study Akabane. He was watching the laptop screen in singular determination, neither smiling nor frowning. She found it fascinating to watch him in turn, noting the way his eyebrows slanted whenever he picked up something of interest, catching the subtle twitches of his lips if he was thinking something over. It was surprising how different he could look when he wasn't wearing his smile. His mouth had a natural downward turn that lent him a very serious appearance, especially when paired with his eyes set in steely concentration. The combination rendered him surprisingly human, and...appealing.
She'd always found his eyes bewitching. The purple secrets hidden within were about the only clue to his emotional state, made all the more beautiful by their odd shading. At first glance Akabane's pupils seemed to be a solid black, more so in dim lighting when that shadow was larger and took over most of the outer lavender limits. But if one was brave (some might say crazy) enough to get closer, it would become apparent that the black was actually a deeper, darker variation of purple, and within it yet still, an even richer ink as the plum descended into obsidian. At the heart of that darkness the pupil was almost slit-shaped, and waxed and waned like a cat's - an anomaly that was only visible in stark lighting or, in rare instances, when he was visibly disturbed.
The pattern reminded Himiko of wolves' eyes, that mesmeric electricity of the hunter engaged. Akabane was a Jackal, and he had plenty of wolfish instincts to spare - an uneasy reality that Himiko was trying to come to terms with in spite of this curious interlude that had landed the both of them together in close quarters.
They'd tentatively crafted a partnership apart from their mutual courier work, absorbing minor but crucial details gleaned from their interactions on the mundane level. It was almost comforting to know that they had similar tastes, things in common; what they differed on in terms of philosophies, they could at least grasp the concepts behind the other's adherences, if not completely understand or accept the reasons why.
This had worked well enough within their sphere as transporters. In a more intimate setting Himiko found it was wiser to proceed with extreme caution, lest she disturb a few of the comfortable illusions they each doubtless held about each other. She could appreciate that appearances held a certain significance for Akabane, as they did for her. Lady Poison, after all, was not a foolish, reckless female given to idle ponderances.
So she kept quiet and tended her potions, all the while aware of the possibility that as she was keeping tabs on him, so too was he assessing her, most likely in the clinical terms of a battlefield's context. She often wondered what it must feel like for him, always viewing everything with a detached lens. Such distance could have its benefits, she supposed. Being able to remain above the emotional fray meant that he could time his attacks with devastating intent, his skill with precision the final mark as the scalpels severed the threadbare cord separating life from death.
But too, she had also wondered, with no small amount of curiosity, whether he was ever able to feel anything beyond the taut expectation of a bloodlust. The frailness of his latent humanity, bled bare from his flesh in her home as she'd tended him, had given her a new regard for him, which she was still attempting to distill.
Himiko might have been even more intrigued if she had known what thoughts skittered across Akabane's mind while he was trying to pay attention to the contents unfolding in front of him on the laptop screen.
He wasn't looking at her, but he didn't need to. He was just as aware of her furtive peeks at him as he was of the shirt on his back - conscious, but not overly concerned, with the elusive feel of substance tracing his skin. Too, it helped that he was skilled in covert observation. Past experience had gifted him with considerable talents. He could remain aware of another's energies and commit the bulk of his focus to the work in front of him, all without having to submit to outside distractions.
So it was with no small amount of confusion and intrigue that he found his mind wandering to his would-be caretaker.
Akabane found her a fascinating entity to be acquainted with; this he had never faltered in admitting to himself, for he prided himself on his ability to accurately summarize and analyze other people according to his standards. Himiko had a will of pure steel, passion in her pride, and a fierceness in battle - both verbal and physical - unmatched by few competitors. She was just as likely to latch onto an enemy with teeth and fists flying as she was to grant useless mercy. But even in that she had a peculiar honor, one not unlike his own, and he could respect the importance it held for her, one reason why, in spite of his own interests, he refused to interfere with the course of a decision she'd set whenever they were working together. So long as her intentions avoided conflict with his own, he would readily refrain from imposing his will over hers.
She had amassed considerable skill during the time they'd known each other. She had grown faster, stealthier, stronger. Even now while they tended their separate tasks, he found a certain pleasure in being near her, an appreciation for the steady manner in which she refilled and bottled each of the deadly little bottles containing her magic. Her hands, small and tempered from meticulous labor, worked quickly and efficiently while she measured, poured, and sealed ingredients. If not for her revulsion concerning blood, she might well have made an excellent surgeon in her own right.
No. It wasn't as simple as that. Himiko wasn't afraid of blood. Nor was she sickened unduly by it - she had a higher tolerance than most humans for its messiness. He'd known her to fight straight on through injuries that were bleeding waterfalls, and he'd seen her grit her teeth through a pale calmness while she bore witness to wounds that would have sent lesser men vomiting into the nearest gutter. It was the finality of death itself, the crossing of a line drawn, that repelled her, and it was nothing that, in her humanity, he could fault her for. Nor did he hold her in lesser regard because she had made clear - repeatedly - her disapproval of his willingness to draw that line with his blade.
He didn't need her to understand his reasons. It was enough, and all that he cared, that she accepted without (much) quarrel his predilections. Though it did give him slight pause to realize that secretly, it might have been as great a thrill as any if ever she had dared challenge him on this front - and it bothered him on some unconscious level that he wasn't keen on exposing light to...the notion that he would have been truly disheartened if she had taken that risk and thus, its consequences.
Akabane sifted through the layers of windows piling up onscreen, drawing his attention back to where it ought to lie instead of upon the slender weapons of his erstwhile partner's fingertips. He had touched those hands before. Always in a professional context, of course. It never failed to impress him how hands could convey so much about a person, how deceptively light and innocent Himiko's hands could seem to one who did not know her the way he did, only to be continually refreshed by the sudden and surprising strength she could exhibit when she chose.
The gentleness in her touch as she'd overseen his slow, struggling recovery he'd expected, even come to enjoy. Such was natural from the feminine mystique. But there was something else there, a hint of what might be termed spirit, that he always sensed from her, and he would have provoked it further for the sheer devilish glee of it just to see her reaction, if not for the concern that she might overstep her own boundaries in a fit of temper and send him reeling into ruin with an ill-timed blow that he wasn't prepared to reciprocate. They had, if not an outright trust, an...understanding...between them. The least he could do was to honor that for however long he graced her home.
Which, in spite of the oddly comfortable routine they'd established at present, Akabane hoped would not be much longer. He was anxious to resume his normal activities, ones that Himiko might have been surprised to learn did not necessarily include lethal battle. He could just as easily find stimulation from nonviolent avenues - it was merely a matter of choice and his desire.
That topic brought him back to her once more. He was at a loss to grasp why she would assist him, other than to conclude that it was part of her sense of honor and obligation. She knew full well that his brush with death hadn't inspired any sudden resolve to alter his wayward path, no trite resolution to journey towards any sort of repentance. Why, then, would she choose to help him, knowing that he would only return to his usual habits?
It was a mystery Akabane had decided to put aside for want of a satisfactory answer, yet it kept returning to rub at the edges of his thoughts like a stuck grain of sand. Helping out of altruism implied caring. Caring hinted at connection, and that led towards...towards what? Something he could not - or would not - name...? But such didn't apply to him, at least he believed he had no inclinations for it...
The laptop chimed softly, a welcome return to his purpose. Akabane opened the email, expecting a reply to his query, and was annoyed but not unduly surprised to find that it was negative. Once again, another dead end.
His displeasure must have registered with Himiko, because she set down the bottle she was working on and looked at him. “No luck?”
Akabane glanced at her, then to the screen, then at her again, composing himself before he spoke. “A minor setback. It's only a matter of time.”
“What are you doing, anyway? Hacking the Babylon Archive?”
They both knew she'd meant it as a joke, but even so, Akabane caught himself before he started at her words, and was further irritated with himself for being so rattled. But Himiko's words had hit closer to the truth than he'd anticipated. For a moment he debated whether or not to bother with an answer. Then a thought occurred to Akabane. Indirectly, perhaps he could prompt her into showing him another route he hadn't yet tapped.
“No.” He deliberately paused. “I'm having Makubex-kun do that for me.” When she looked up at him with eyes widening slightly, he said, “I require certain information concerning Kagami, and this is the best way to go about getting it without alerting him to that fact.”
Himiko frowned. “Why don't you just access their system from the Other Side when you cross over? You're one of them, aren't you? The few that can bypass the great door?”
“You misunderstand my placement in the scheme,” Akabane said. “It's not so simple. Would that it were.” He braced for the inevitable peppering.
Himiko drew her legs underneath her as she shifted in her seat. “I never understood anything about your involvement over there. Were you one of the Trust members?” When he glanced at her, she said, “You're originally from Babylon City, aren't you?”
“I came from there, but I do not deal with the Trust factions themselves, unless you count Hakase.”
“Hakase...” Then she remembered. The specialist, the strange girl in white whose mind was ages beyond her physical form, and the one behind much of the Get Backers' mysterious destiny. “She's Trust?”
“One of them. Occasionally she hires me for certain jobs.”
Himiko tried to process this. “So if there are two main Trust groups, and she's one of those that were arranging for Ginji to be the lord of Mugenjou's world, and preserve it instead of the destruction that the Witch Queen prophesied...she's okay, isn't she? One of the good ones?”
Akabane raised a brow. “That depends on your definition of good. Either Trust faction has been known to engage in experiments that have questionable value. And Hakase knows what type of job I am best suited for.”
Himiko held back a shiver, and tested the waters. “So which side are you on?”
He looked at her, his eyes steady with inscrutable secrets. “I am on the same side as I have always been, and will always be. My own.”
Her eyes darkened at the evasive reply. “But if you have a working relationship with the specialist, why can't you just go through her instead of Makubex to get the information you want?”
“Discretion being the better part of valor, of course,” Akabane said with a shrug. “A seasoned hunter doesn't prematurely startle the prey he's after, hmm? It will be all the more satisfying for me when the time comes to pay back the Observer for the nuisance he has created for me, if he knows nothing of the storm gathering at his back.”
He turned his attention back to the laptop, starting up another series of communiques to send out to another possible source, and was thus caught somewhat off guard when Himiko continued. “But they know Makubex. They expect him to tap the Archive. He's done it before. Won't they take precautions against that, even with his skills?”
“Oh, I'm sure they're aware of it.” He took a few minutes to finish typing out a sentence. “Very little gets by without someone up there taking notice. But even the best security system in the world can't keep out an invader who's resourceful and persistent enough.”
“I didn't know you two were on such good terms.”
“It's more that we understand each other's protocol.” Akabane typed some more. “He wants answers and those I can grant, in spades. Makubex-kun knows this. In return he fulfills that which he knows I will expect of him, and we each are satisfied in our own little ways.” He concluded the missive he'd been preparing and hit send before looking up at Himiko again. “It's all purely business. Makubex-kun has dealt with Kagami himself. His insight should be particularly valuable.”
Himiko frowned again at that. “Sakura told me once, when they were putting together the IL, that she couldn't understand at first why a man like Kagami would submit to the will of a younger, less experienced leader. But she and Makubex figured it out - the only reason someone from the upper levels would do that is so they could divide and conquer through subterfuge.”
Akabane nodded. “It's been a timeless stratagem for a reason. For all his teenage distress Makubex-kun is a very astute general when it comes to conducting a battle. I imagine that's part of what prompted his placement in Lower Town to begin with.”
Himiko picked up an empty bottle, but did nothing with it other than to tap it gently on top of the table. “Maybe it's just me, but have you noticed that Brain Trust seems to have a thing for manipulating children? There's Makubex, of course, but others too. The Voodoo Children, like me. And my brother. And we all know about Ginji - “
“He was an anomaly they'd never intended from the start,” Akabane said. “It was their fatal error in judgment that they thought they could add him to their stockpiles after he'd been saddled with an unstable demigod. Why do you think the Witch Queen slammed the gates shut? There'd already been one catastrophe to drown the City in blood; the next one might have obliterated it entirely.” Something flashed behind his eyes then, but before she could ask him about it he quickly continued. “But you're right, it isn't just you. The Trust prefers children for experimental practicality. Blank slates are more malleable than adult ones.”
A sickening sensation squirmed in Himiko's insides. “My brother must've known. He never wanted to talk about it with me. He just always warned me to stay away from Mugenjou because we were the hunted, the last of our lineage. But he'd never say exactly why.”
She sighed and let go of the bottle she'd been tampering with, putting her head down on her folded arms. “I still wish he'd told me. Something, anything. It would've saved so much trouble. I never understood why Yamato would share with Ban, but never me.”
She looked up at Akabane then, a fire dancing in her eyes. “And don't say it's an older brother thing. There's more to it than that.”
“What if it was?”
Himiko scowled. “He still owed me an explanation.”
He couldn't help but admire her stubbornness. “All of us are owed explanations at some time or another. A pity we don't always get what we want, isn't it?”
Himiko huffed quietly and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed against her chest. “Hah. As if you'd be content to accept a passive fate.”
“You're not exactly a delicate flower yourself,” Akabane pointed out, the hint of a smile tipping the edges of his lips.
“No.” Himiko's mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “I'm a hooligan. A boar. A churlish unpopular oaf.”
Something in her tone piqued Akabane's interest. “What fool had the stomach to make such a statement to you?”
She looked away, a thoughtful scowl darkening her face. “Some high schooler. Probably a spoiled daddy's princess. It doesn't matter now. Just someone I met once, working a random job for Ban.”
He had a feeling he knew who she meant. Extricating himself graciously from the meeting with his would-be admirer had taken considerable time and effort. “And you're going to let some stupid words from a mere child affect your entire self-concept?”
Himiko's cheeks reddened. “Of course not. It just...it reminds me of all the shit I had to wade through to become a successful agent. People still don't take me seriously. Some of them...never will.”
Her eyes met his, and he was struck by the intensity of the quiet emotion she kept simmering beneath her controlled facade. Something in her...some strange...connection, felt as though it were calling to him...
He wanted to dismiss the notion outright. But he couldn't. Her personal grievances may have differed from his, but they were approaching something close to kindred, and he felt compelled to honor that. He could understand it, in a way. He'd been there himself, as a young intern, striving to do his best to prove to the elder physicians who sneered down at their less experienced peers that he was just as capable as they were. Curious, that he should recall such life and remember the feelings associated with it. He'd thought that he'd long ago severed those ties.
Himiko spoke again, her soft voice underscored by a lifelong frustration. “You can't know what that's like, being put down in so many different ways because you're considered second-class by default. Even Ban and my brother did it. They didn't always mean to. But I could feel it, when they'd talk down to me like I couldn't understand what was going on. Like I was just a dumb baby.” She regarded him with a curious stare. “You're the only one who ever gave me a chance on my own merit. Well, you and Maguruma.”
“I don't know. Even he can be a bit on the patronizing side once in a while,” Akabane said. “If you heard half of what he says to me when it's just the two of us on assignment you'd find it a miracle that he's still alive.” He paused, smiling in wry thought. “I tolerate it only because I like his company, and he's the best driver around.”
“But still,” Himiko said. “You never judged me on a superficial basis. Even though you could have, had every right to. Because you're...” She sighed. “You're the best. The deadliest, but still the best. Instead you let me find my own way, gain my own experience, and you still treated me like an equal partner even when I screwed up. I owe you for that.”
Akabane was genuinely surprised. “For what?”
Himiko looked at him. “For trusting me. For believing in me. That means a lot to me.”
He wasn't sure what to say to that. He was inexplicably touched by her confession, and he didn't know whether to feel...flattered? Rankled? Delighted? “I could say the same for you, you know. Not many would willingly work alongside a coldblooded killer,” he pointed out.
Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe not so coldblooded. I've noticed. You have a...system.”
Akabane's brow arched. “Honor among thieves, is that it?”
“It's still honor. That's got to count for something...”
He was still dwelling over her words when they adjourned for their nightly movie before bedtime. It had become a ritual, same as their taking meals together or practicing his physical therapy. For one so young Himiko was almost as nostalgic as he was, and among the things they'd discovered that they both liked were older movies. Akabane watched while she put a disc in the player and nodded approvingly. “I always liked that one.”
“Yamato got a kick out of impersonating the lead actor for clients sometimes,” Himiko said as she picked up the remote control and settled alongside him on the couch.
“Oh? Did he do the dramatic scene from Key Largo?”
Himiko grinned. “No, it was the one from Casablanca. And yes, he reserved it for our female clients.”
“Ahh.”
They were content to watch in companionable silence. At one point Akabane shifted on the couch, trying to get more comfortable. His movements drew Himiko's attention, and though she was discreet about the sideways looks she was giving him, he was at a loss to understand why she should suddenly find him so fascinating.
“Is something wrong?”
There was the briefest flash of trepidation in her eyes, but she didn't flinch from confrontation. Himiko moistened her lips as she put the forbidden into spoken form. “How did you get your scars?”
Akabane was careful not to let his surprise show. It seemed like an unusual query at first, coming directly like that, but then when he tilted his head to look at her and felt the slip of his hair against the side of his exposed neck, he realized what was showing when his shirt collar had loosened.
The mark there was the least impressive of his distinctive traits. He hadn't even obtained it in a fight; he hardly ever thought of it himself, not considering a youthful indiscretion worth dwelling on. He would have expected greater curiosity concerning the prominent stripe branding his chest, shoulder and back.
Would Himiko understand? Could she truly know what had transpired in Sodumonado? She had been there with him, once, though not during the time of transcendence. She had seen enough to grasp the underworld's concepts for herself. Even so, she did not know the darkness like he did. And sympathy was not the same as empathy, though both were anathema to him. Emotion, connection, these were hindrances anymore. Weaknesses he could not afford to indulge. To do so would invite true death.
As startled - and annoyed - as he was to discover that a part of him still existed which would have welcomed shared confession, he was too long an outsider, too much of a professional to surrender to such urges. Yet...
Himiko was a professional too. If asked, she would perhaps be more likely than anyone else to safeguard anything he entrusted her with. She had already gone above the call of duty in rescuing and reviving him, knowing full well that she could expect little by way of compensation; she had done it all for her own sense of satisfaction. Hers was a strength to be respected, even reckoned with.
His continued silence made her think that he found the inquiry offensive. Himiko folded her hands in her lap, her posture losing some of its starch. “I'm sorry. That was personal. Call it a slip of professional curiosity.”
He could have cut her down with an acerbic remark. He would have done so with anyone else. But he knew the difference between morbid fascination and genuine interest, and he understood, on some instinctual level that he was reluctant to name, from which wellspring her foray into the unknown had arisen. “You would not believe me even if I did tell you,” Akabane said slowly at last.
She made herself meet his eyes, and the rare glimmer of honesty there, along with the quiet tone in which he'd answered, kept the impatience and frustration at his smooth evasion from leeching back into her voice. Akabane considered her important enough to treat her seriously and she'd said as much. She would have to trust that, in his own good time, in his own way, he would permit her to cross his boundaries as he saw fit.
“Why shouldn't I believe you? You're not a liar.” That was also the truth. He was sneaky, he was secretive, but never yet had he been outright dishonest.
He seemed pleased by her assessment, and a slight warmth surfaced in his gaze before it was submerged by a more common wariness. “Perhaps not. But I haven't been entirely honest with you before, either.”
“You have your reasons. I don't always agree with them. But I accept that that's the way it is with you,” Himiko said.
“A wise acknowledgment.”
There was a stretched quiet between them, filled only by the actors' dialogue onscreen as the hero disarmed his naysayers with blunt coolness. Finally Akabane said, “Would it be enough for you if I told you that maybe someday, if the time was right, I might share that story with you?”
Himiko held back the leap of her heart and nodded.
“It's not that I don't trust you.” It's that I don't trust myself. Akabane squelched that line of thought before it could even take root. “There are certain...factors, involved...”
Himiko felt like she'd just been granted a rare treasure. “You don't have to explain,” she hastened to assure him, even though that was exactly what she would have liked most at this moment.
He sought words to convey his tangled thoughts on the matter, wondering why he suddenly seemed incapable of stating it in simple terms that left little mystery to doubt. “It's...complicated, you see...”
“I know.” Himiko paused. “Fair's fair. If you're willing to share, so will I. I'll tell you some of my secrets...”
He indulged her with a calm smile. “You're not old enough to have accumulated secrets.”
Her eyebrow did a sharp arc. “Oh no? I could tell you a few things that'd make even your hair curl.”
It was a bold declaration from one of her tender age and could easily be seen as the brashness of such. Only the grit sparking behind her indigo gaze convinced him that she did, in fact, harbor some scintillating tales of her own. He found himself wondering what sort of a life she'd lived, that she should have experiences to tell.
He was thinking of asking her about it when she switched on him with fresh inquiry. “Akabane...why would Babylon City shut you out of the Archive when you're one of them?”
A clever one, indeed. How typical of the power of the voodoo child - an intuition that had always served her well. “You are assuming that every City dweller has access to the Archive.”
For the moment, he kept the displeasure of revisiting this topic out of his voice. Something in the way she'd asked him made him think that she'd found an angle he hadn't yet touched on, and that bothered him on several levels. “What makes you think that I cannot simply research that channel if I were of a mind to do so? I told you, I want to avoid alerting the enemy.”
“The system is rigged. You said so yourself.” When he looked at her, she elaborated. “When we were in Sodumonado. You told me - the peoples on each succeeding level of Mugenjou can't defeat the ones who are higher above them. But who can challenge the topmost ranks? Only another Babylonian, if there's a power struggle going on and there are multiple factions vying for total control. That's why the specialist hires you, isn't it? It's her group pitted against whoever else is trying to take over.”
“Divide and conquer, is that what you're saying?”
Himiko didn't flinch. “It works for a reason.”
Akabane had to give her credit. All this time, when she'd been quietly providing him with the outlet he needed to do his work, she'd managed to figure out what he was doing without becoming terribly intrusive or tipping him off to her intentions. Still, there was one crucial point she hadn't yet seemed to notice, and that was what most concerned him about her apparently insatiable interest. Deciding it would be better to concede this small win in favor of protecting the larger battle at hand, he deigned to give her a reply.
“I'm sure you understand by now as well as I do that the primary culprit responsible for my convalescence in your home bears no love lost between himself and Hakase. Kagami did, after all, have a vested interest in preventing the Get Backers from achieving their goal, whereas she stood to gain quite a deal of power if it were her plan that came to fruition.”
Himiko frowned. “So this is what? Revenge? As conceited a jerk as Kagami is, I can't see him going to this kind of trouble for a blood feud sparked by a rebellion that took place before he was even born. He values his own hide too much to risk getting it handed to him in a down and dirty fight. Did he really have so much resting on Mugenjou's fate?”
Akabane shrugged. “Who can say for certain. One thing I can promise you is that whatever else he is, he is most definitely an opportunist. Such men will lie in wait like spiders before pouncing on their prey.”
“Ugh. Don't remind me of spiders,” Himiko grumbled. “I had enough of that when I fought off Kirihito. I'm just glad that that clan came to its senses after Kabuto was defeated.” She paused in thought for a moment. “Of course, Genshu Miyama had a lot to do with that. Even though he couldn't convince Jorogumo to pull away from her course in time. But he put the doubt into her heart, so that probably helped when it came time for Ginji to confront her.”
She thought some more. “Made my work easier too. Miyama wanted to free all the insect clans of the Kiryuudo from their karmic curse. He asked me, before he died, to help him set them free. I kept that promise, with the altered insecticide perfume I created for him.” Somber remembrance shadowed her face as she reached back for those memories.
“Hmm. Just as I thought.” At Himiko's glance, Akabane continued. “Not long after the fall of Kabuto, Semimaru Kanade spoke to me of a sorceress who had created a potion to eliminate the curse in the remaining clans. He never mentioned her by name, but I always suspected it was you.”
She gave him a questioning look, the movie they were indulging in now long forgotten. “Semimaru Kanade... The same headman from the seven elders? The one who commanded the forest armies of the cicada people?”
“The very same. He was most impressed with your work,” Akabane added.
“So Ginji was right. You did know him.” The narrowing of his eyes made her briefly rethink the wisdom of touching this subject, but Himiko decided she had nothing to lose; it wasn't as if her cohort wouldn't give her ample warning before she'd strayed too far into dangerous territory. “He said that when you two met he could sense - “
“That we'd met from before,” Akabane said, his voice dipping into coolness. “Yes. I'm aware of that. Ginji-kun's altered state lent him the ability to pick up on the fluctuations in others' bodily energies, regardless of how minute those changes were. Aside from the fact that I'd been hired by Fuyuki-san to transport his lover back, that's why I went with him to Hell Valley. He was a very valuable detector for an enemy that excelled in stealth attacks.”
Himiko watched him thoughtfully. She'd touched on a sensitive spot all right, and if what she'd heard from Ginji was true... “Ginji said you two weren't necessarily enemies, though.”
“On this particular battlefield we were.” Purple eyes speared her with cold logic. “Politics, Himiko-san, truly makes for the most unusual alliances. The rest of the Kiryuudo promised my old friend something of infinite worth to him, something he could never have otherwise obtained, if he would take up the mantle of his burden once more and join with them. As a commander and strategist in combat, he was quite important to their plan, and everyone knew it.”
He nodded toward the television screen, where a fight was erupting. “We're missing the best part of the movie.”
She wasn't about to give up so easily now that her interest was piqued by the tracks she'd scented, but Himiko fell silent while they turned their attention to the screen. When the ending credits began to roll, however, she tossed out her last dart. “Surely Semimaru knew what toll Kabuto's war would take, that he could cross paths with you. And you?”
She hit the stop button on the controller and looked at him. Akabane could have been a stone statue, still as he was, as he regarded her with the same chilly detachment from earlier. Finally he spoke.
“All soldiers understand the risk they take in tempting death. It comes with the intimacy as naturally as does the blood beating in their bodies. War is never won by the side that fancies itself right, Himiko-san. Only by those who are left in its wake...if they are strong enough to survive the ravage.”
He reached for his cane and slowly got up, affording her a slight tip of his head. “I'd get some rest if I were you. Tomorrow is a busy day. Good night, Himiko-san.”
Himiko stayed on the couch for a while after he'd hobbled away to bed, wondering at this bitterness that could maim people so. Somehow, in spite of its emotionless tone, the very cut of his voice as he'd delivered that final salvo had conveyed a lethal knowledge of sacrifices that no mortal should have. That rawness had scarred its imprint on Akabane in more ways than one, and it made her glimpse of the vision all the more disturbing.
She had a sinking feeling that Babylon City subscribed to that war creed with a vengeance.
--
“You're sure you can walk all right.”
Himiko was not inclined to think so. As with any recovery from traumatic physical impairment, there were good days and bad days. Today was one of the latter. Just getting from the bedroom to the kitchen had left Akabane with a paleness not natural to his usual coloring, and his legs still trembled as he moved at a slower pace than his regular sinuous stride. She wondered if he'd slept about as well as she had, after last night's discussion of old and fresh wounds. But he was determined, even as he stiffly pulled on the dress shirt and trousers she'd bought for him, saving his infamous coat, hat, and gloves for last.
“Leave it,” he said when she tried again to offer him the cane after he'd finished knotting his tie. “It's too obvious.”
“You mean to walk on your own all the way from here to downtown, when you can't even keep from breaking a sweat just moving from room to room?” Himiko shook her head. “I think you should take it. Dangle it off your arm for show, the contact will never know the difference.”
“And then what? Twirl it about like some sort of circus performer?” Akabane scowled. “No. It's not something Jackal normally carries and the contact will know this. I refuse to ruin an important meeting over one ridiculous detail.”
Himiko tightened her lips, but hooked the cane's handle over the back of a chair. She reached into her harness and pulled out a small bottle, which she pressed into Akabane's hand.
He peered at it with a frown, then looked at her. “What's this for?”
“Antidote scent. You'll need it after today. It's mostly for canceling out the effects of my other poisons, but it can also be used as a mild healing aid. I used it to keep you alive when I found you.”
Akabane was about to reject that offer too, thought better of it, and reconsidered. Today was going to be a trying time, and if he were to be candid with himself about it, he was going to need all the assistance he could get.
He pocketed the little bottle in his coat and nodded. “Thank you.”
“I'm ready whenever you are.”
“Good. If you'll kindly bring me my hat, we can leave any time then.”
Himiko went to get the infamous object of much scrutiny by both foes and fen alike, from where it was perched atop the wall hook. On her way she passed by one of the kitchen windows, and as she glanced up, letting her fingers tip apart a few of the blinds from habit, she was greeted with an unwelcome sight. “Great. My fan club is here again.”
She turned around to make another remark about it to Akabane, and her smile dropped at about the same time his did. Himiko instantly knew the appearance of the surveillance team that had been following her for some time was a very ill omen, if the frigid tension snapping Akabane's body into stillness was any indication. But she'd sensed this all along, hadn't she? Now it seemed payment had come due...
He spoke, his voice quiet but chilled. “How many?”
Himiko ventured closer at an angle to the window, glad that the shading there helped to spoil any view indoors for the outsiders. She counted. “Two that I can see, but they're driving a van, so there could be more inside it.” She heard the ominous rustle of coat fabric behind her. “They're from the City,” she said, making it a statement as Akabane padded up to the window to have a look. She didn't miss the way his lips thinned at the sight of their stalkers, and the bad pangs she was feeling grew.
“Yes.”
“What kind of threat are they?” she said, flipping a bottle of perfume into her fingers, thumb poised to pop the cork.
Akabane studied the imposition and their transport. Not top quality, but not cheap muscle either, just as Himiko had told him. Definitely a problem in any case. “None, for now. Sentinels don't act unless directed to. Their function is merely to report on our movements.”
“So we can't leave the apartment,” Himiko guessed sourly.
“Not without an audience knowing what we plan to do.” Akabane tracked the first man's steps. He was strolling around the other side of the van now, toking on a half-dwindled cigarette. “At least we can thank our lucky stars that worse hasn't shown up yet.”
“They have worse?”
Akabane took his fingers away and let the blinds fall closed. He turned away from the window and looked at her. “As of this moment there are exactly two people alive who know what's become of Doctor Jackal. How long do you think that peace will last once confirmation of my existence reaches those streets out there?”
He let her digest that for a minute while they focused again on the spies outside. “What can we do, then?” Himiko finally asked.
Akabane didn't answer. He stepped away from the window and paced through the kitchen, brows furrowed in thought. “Do you have someone you trust to watch your place?”
Himiko was confused. “Ban probably would, freeloader that he is. I'll call him right now - “
He grasped her arm before she could reach for her phone. “No, don't. They'll have tapped your line.” His face darkened then. “For all we know, they may even have us miked.”
“Miked?”
“Rifle microphones. They can be fitted onto anything weaponized, usually a firearm,” Akabane said. “All the sentinels have to do is point them at a structure that isn't reinforced and they can listen in on whatever they want. It's possible to block them somewhat, but with these windows whatever concrete your building is made out of won't be enough to obscure conversation entirely.”
He turned again to the window, nudging back a few of the blinds. The action, what there was of it, didn't seem to have changed any. The visible man was still strolling, still puffing on his cigarette, which was now a stub. He flicked it to the ground and stepped on it, twisting his foot to grind out the embers. Conscientious sort, Akabane thought derisively.
The second man was now in view. He had been sitting in the driver's seat; he exited the vehicle and ambled over to chat with his partner. They seemed jovial enough, trading commentary as the first man lit up another cigarette. They didn't appear to be in any rush.
Akabane took note of their van. Plain white, large but not overly so, without any outstanding features. It looked like a regular delivery van, which was likely why they'd chosen it. They could pass as just another business outfit dropping off goods or servicing neighborhoods.
Akabane thought it over some more. He decided that they probably weren't outfitted with rifle mikes, or other surveillance equipment. For all its high-tech capability the City often liked to utilize traditional methods. Technology was so rampant anymore that people were more aware of it while becoming less aware of the tangible world around them. Such distraction could make it easier for an enemy to approach undetected. Paranoia could be a useful weapon as well.
Either way, they had to move before the sentinels - or their superiors - did.
Akabane pulled back from the window. Himiko was looking at him, but she didn't say anything right away, and for this he was grateful. They looked at each other for several minutes, each sorting out their dilemma.
Then Himiko plucked out one of her perfume bottles. “Wait. I have an idea.”
She uncapped the vial and prepared the spell, sealing it carefully inside. “Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can.”
“Where are you going? You can't leave with those men out there - “
“I'm not going anywhere.” Himiko held up the perfume bottle. “But this is. Watch.”
Akabane hobbled after her. Himiko stuck the perfume back in her harness and went around to her bedroom, on the other side of the building, where the sentinels presumably couldn't have full sight of their targets. She unlatched the window and opened it, pulling on the tabs that kept the screen in place, and removed this, laying it aside. “Stay put in case they sneak around the back,” she told Akabane as she climbed out onto the fire escape. “If they spot just me they won't be as suspicious.”
It was his turn to be confused. “What do you think you're doing? You can't ambush them, they'll be prepared for such an attack!”
“I'm not attacking them. I'm going behind their backs,” Himiko replied as she clambered down the metal ladder. When she touched the ground she pulled out her bottle again - the message scent. She uncapped it and spewed the perfume along as wide a trajectory as she could. There was a light breeze in the air. Good.
She stood back and waited. Not more than a few minutes passed while the scent dispersed, and suddenly a bedraggled mutt came trotting out of the alley. Himiko let it come up to her and sniff her hand. The dog sat without her having to tell it, and waited while she prepared a new message perfume. This one she sealed and offered to the dog. The animal gently took the little bottle between its teeth, chuffed agreeably at her, and jogged back into the shadows from where it had materialized.
“Mind telling me what the devil that was all about?” Akabane demanded once Himiko had climbed back up the fire escape.
She looked decidedly smug as she crawled through the open window. “Message perfume works on animals too, just not the same way as humans. But it'll do for our purposes. I basically told him to get Shido Fuyuki. He can watch my place while we're gone.”
Akabane stared at her, duly impressed with her subterfuge. “Bloody brilliant of you, I must admit.”
“Thanks.” She shut the window without replacing the screen and dusted off her palms on her thighs. “Now what do we do?”
“Pack an overnight bag. You may not wish to return here for a while.”
She looked at him, but he didn't elaborate further, so she went to do as he said. On a hunch, she made sure that some of her most powerful perfumes - and the recipe book she used to make them - were tucked securely in the small backpack she put together.
When she was done ten minutes later she went looking for Akabane. She found him sitting hunched over on her couch, head bowed as if in meditation - or exhaustion. “Should we call Maguruma and get him to help us escape?”
“No. Call emergency and report a fire in the building.”
“But there's no fire - “
Akabane looked up with a pointed gleam in his eye, aimed at Himiko's perfume harness. “There will be.”
Not long after this discussion the Babylonians keeping watch outside were finally pleased to see some activity at the building they had been assigned to stake out. Their interest was short-lived, however, when the fire trucks and ambulances screaming into the yard proved to have nothing to do with their quarry and instead went after the large plume of smoke billowing from the backside of one of the empty offices.
The sentinels fell back to a side street, having been herded off by several arriving police cruisers as law enforcement quickly corralled the scene from any gawking bystanders. While the firefighters determined that no human lives were endangered and set about dousing the flames - arson investigators would later find that the blaze originated from some sort of incendiary chemicals - the sentinels hired to stalk Doctor Jackal and Lady Poison, in the guise of detectives, entertained themselves chatting up a few of the local residents in an effort to learn what little they could about certain people who lived in the affected building.
In all the commotion of sirens and spraying hydrant water, voices barking orders through bullhorns and radios, personnel racing back and forth from their respective jobs to the scene, or to convey messages from their bosses to officials awaiting word, no one noticed a young woman with a backpack and a tall man in black slip as phantoms through the haze of smoke-filled sunlight.
--
TBC