Activated (9/14)
Author: ryosukekoibito
Pairing: Okajima, with some side Hikabu and Dainoo
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Weapons and violence, discussion of drugs
Genre: Action
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone. all non-english languages used in this fic were transcribed with the help of google translate, and while I tried to do research and properly check them, there may be some errors. Also this whole thing is ridiculous. I apologize in advance.
Summary: Special Agent team H.E.Y.S.A.Y.J.U.M.P. had never gotten a mission of their own, and now that they were being given the opportunity to prove themselves to their organization, they weren't going to let this chance slip through their fingers.A/N: Hey! So I have managed to get my hands on a laptop that seems to have a good internet connection, so I do believe I'm back to being able to post regularly for now! If that changes again I'll let you all know. I'm sorry about all of this, I don't like not having been able to be consistent. And Shy, darling! I think I'll be able to sit down and write to you tomorrow! I know it's been MONTHS and I'm so sorry. Thank you for everything. I hope you're well, and that you're enjoying the fic! I think it's finally gotten to the fun part!
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
The operation was a total disaster. They waited in the darkness for about twenty minutes, Keito’s heart in his throat, his palms sweating, before Daiki’s voice in their ear announced
“They're here. Someone is here.”
“Who is it?” Yabu hissed, sounding almost as tense as Keito felt. The wait must have put a strain on his nerves too.
“I can't tell yet.” Daiki told them. “No one I recognize...hold on, there's a foreign guy. There’s a couple of foreigners. It's gotta be the supplier. Yamada, he’s headed your way. Him and five others.” On instinct Keito crouched even lower to the ground, bracing himself as the door to the abandoned weapons building was pushed open, the sound of shoes on the concrete slab echoing loud in the black silence. His breath hitched in his throat, and Daiki’s voice seemed too loud in his ear, as their sniper declared “They’re checking the perimeter. Hikaru, they’re headed toward the eastern wall.”
“Understood.” Keito’s eyes were wide, and he was up on the balls of his feet, crouched low, listening to the clack of shoes of the concrete floor, trying to gauge just how many people there were. It seemed like a lot. Every movement his body made felt too loud, every breath felt like it was going to give him away, and as the seconds dragged on into minutes the paranoia didn’t cease. His team had gone radio silent, and he didn’t see any of his companions, feeling more isolated than he’d thought he would. The party eventually seemed to deem themselves safe, the sounds of footsteps ceasing, instead replaced by murmurs and the sounds of shifting bodies.
The near silence was long, and the longer it stretched the more restless the men in the room seemed to get. Keito could feel their impatience in the air, and he had to force himself to move to get closer. He was here to listen in. He had to eavesdrop, the was his whole purpose for being here, and he couldn't do that if he was hiding away in the corner furthest from the action. The longer they waited the closer he got to the mass of people, creeping toward the door-the only way in or out-his heart pounding in his ears. He tried to calm himself down. He needed to be able to hear them.
Keito picked a spot behind a thick metal rack, barely a meter from the conglomeration of bodies waiting by the door. He'd just barely decided that he was in an ideal location for listening in when there was the sound of the door opening, and his breath hitched in his throat. There was the rustle of movement, and the clack of footsteps on the hard concrete floor, and Keito took a deep breath, peering through the rack to see a second hoard of people coming in, the mass of people in suits parting to let through a man Keito recognized from the manila folders they had been given when they'd been assigned this mission. It was the head of the Tokyo branch for the Dojin-kai. Keito tried to remember his name. Fukuma or Fukui or something. The man had a stern look on his face, and he approached the foreign man, barking out in heavily accented English
“I am upset you still don’t trust us. We have agreed to all of your terms.” The foreign man shifted his weight, hands in his pockets, and while his back was turned, and Keito couldn’t see his face, his voice had a tone of surprise.
“I assure you, Mr. Fukui, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That apparently was not the right thing to say, the yakuza leader getting up in the foreign man’s face, the gun on his hip glinting pointedly in the moonlight pouring in through the still open doorway.
“You don’t know? Do not lie to me. The entire building...it was…” He sounded angry, tone lowering menacingly, but he trailed off, as if struggling to find the word he was looking for. There was a long moment of silence, before he finally snapped out “listening! We had to....boom!” Fear washed over Keito, dropping in his stomach like a bucket of ice as he realized what the man was saying. They had discovered the radio waves from his team’s communications system. They’d thought it was just Sonne Gesundheitswesen, but it wouldn’t take long before they would figure out the truth. Shit.
“We’ve been made. They know we’re here. What’s the plan?” Silence. “Hikaru?” Nothing. “Yuto? Daiki? Anyone?” He was muttering frantically into the com link, listening to the sound of his heart pounding and the voices of the Dojin-kai’s upper level man still talking with the foreigner, bewilderment and suspicion creeping into their tones.
“That was not us, Mr. Fukui.” The representative from the mysterious Sonne Gesundheitswesen assured the yakuza men. “That had to be someone else.”
“Who?” The question hung in the silence, and Keito realized that his teammates could not hear him. The Dojin-kai had said they had had to boom. He felt a shiver of something that felt like dread ring through him as he came to understand what that meant. They’d set off some type of EMP, to keep from being spied on, and in that they’d managed to blow all communications, anything that ran on electricity was fried. He was essentially alone. Fuck. He turned away from the deal, abandoning his post with little thought to anything but an escape plan, and he scrambled into the shadows, into the dark recesses of the old bunker, hoping to find Yabu or Yamada, hoping that maybe they could regroup and get out okay. Somehow.
All they needed was a clear route to the door. If they could make it outside then they’d have a fighting chance to escape unscathed, but that possibility seemed bleak at best. With the coms out there was no way his team would know that they were in trouble, and they were trapped in the bunker like fish in a barrel, the only way in or out that main door, the door that was surrounded by yakuza and drug suppliers. He weaved through empty racks and long halls looking for signs of his companions, but the halls were quiet, and they had hidden themselves expertly. He considered calling out to them, but he found his voice catching on a lump in his throat, and every time he opened his mouth he ended up shutting it again, silent.
It wasn’t long however before the bunker was no longer silent. He’d only been searching for a minute or so before Keito heard the sounds of unfamiliar voices, raised and angry sounding, feet pounding on the concrete floor, and there was a heavy sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized that the groups of people by the door had realized that they were not alone. Shit. He needed to find Yamada, needed to find Yabu, needed to come up with a plan, because he couldn’t do this if he was all alone. He needed his team. He picked up his pace, searching frantically, and it wasn’t long before he found someone, but it wasn’t someone he wanted to see.
He turned a corner, and all of a sudden there was a blinding light in his face. A moment later there was a yell of triumph, the sound angry and full of determination, and he spun on his heel, turning and running away from the light, panic spiking in his chest as he heard the slap of shoes on the concrete floor pick up speed. He had been spotted, and was being chased. He had to outrun them. He had to. He tore down aisles, but the more he ran the more pursuants he picked up. It seemed that in his panic to escape he’d lost a good deal of his stealth. He was falling back on basic human reactions. He was scared. He just ran. He lost track of where he was, the large dark building a maze of shelves and old rusted equipment, and he tried to fight the rising tears in his eyes, the panic ballooning in his chest as he started to feel the hope draining out of him.
He ran smack into Yamada. He nearly got killed for it too, the small assassin lunging out at him, a blade fitted between his fingers like it belonged there, the sharp edge whipping across Keito’s cheek, and Keito could see the shock and will in Yamada’s eyes, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be anything but relieved, wrapping his arms around his friend for a moment, the words rushing out of him, slipping off of his tongue high pitched and anxious.
“They’re coming. They know.” The words were redundant, the footsteps that had been following him coming around the corner as he spoke, a horde of them, probably ten or more, and that light, probably a flashlight, announced his pursuants’ arrival in a way that could not be ignored. Yamada didn’t even blink, pulling two handguns off of the holster on his hips and leveling them, one in each hand, before opening fire, yelling to Keito without taking his eyes off of his target
“Run!” There was the sounds of bodies hitting the ground, and then the men that had been pursuing Keito started returning fire, and Keito had no choice but to do as Yamada had said, the crack of gunfire leaving his ears ringing, all other sound drowned out. He supposed that was why he didn’t hear the sound of the window shattering, glass falling down on him, a canister barely missing his head as it whizzed past, hitting a shelf with a metallic clang before the already dark bunker grew to be even darker. It happened in moments. One second Keito was pounding down a long hallway, the next second he couldn’t see two centimeters in front of his face.
Everything was blackness, he had no hope of finding his way out in darkness that thick, he knew, and he slowed down, arms out in front of him, hoping to get lucky and stumble across the exit. In the distance he could still hear gunshots, could still hear the sound of Yamada fighting, and he felt rather sick. He wanted to go back and help, but he couldn’t find his way back now, and besides, he would probably only get in the way. Yamada could handle himself. He had been one of the best in his field, back when he had been training. He’d been practicing for this since he was eleven. He would be fine. He had to be fine.
Keito heard the loud crack of a gun going off, ear splittingly loud, and he didn’t have time to register just how close that had been before he felt a white hot pain tearing through his left shoulder. He let out a yelp of pain, curling in on himself, and that was when he felt a hand on his arm, and on reflex he grabbed the hand and pulled, yanking his attacker closer, throwing them off balance before punching out in the darkness, his fist plowing into what felt like a throat. There was a wheezing gasp somewhere by his left ear, and he punched again, this time hitting something more full of bone, before he heard the metallic sound of a trigger being pulled, and he felt a bullet bust through his right arm, all noise and pure pain.
He yelled, throwing himself at his attacker, reaching out blindly with the one arm that he could use. His arms were screaming in protest, hitting anything he could find. The gun went off again, but this time they missed. Keito couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, ears ringing from the sound of gunfire, and all he could feel was the flaming pain in his torso, in his limbs, and the flesh of the man trying to kill him. He scrambled, going for the man’s neck, hands wrapping around it and squeezing, but it left him open, and there was a crack from the gun, and a third bullet tore through his side. Keito curled in on himself in instinct, hands going to the wound, and there was a sharp pain in his skull, and then there was nothing.