Chapter 31 - Fixing a Hole
By fool_on_the_hill
Jean Havoc took a puff of his cigarette. He exhaled deeply as he leaned against the hood of the car, taking in the view before him. The sun was beginning to rise, bathing the landscape in an ethereal glow. The dewdrops that sprinkled the grass glistened like jewels in the dawn light. Swirls of cigarette smoke waltzed in mid-air, led by a gentle breeze.
“So, what now, Colonel?”
Roy Mustang stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, overlooking the crescent valley they had parked by. For the past few weeks, he and his loyal subordinate had scoured all of Actonia, and even the fringes of Babblstan, for any little morsel that would lead them to the truth behind the death of Riza Hawkeye. They had hit a dead end. The wind tossled Roy’s dark hair and then returned to a mere whisper.
Havoc sighed. Mustang had become increasingly aloof over the last few days. Their search was taking a toll.
“We’re heading back.”
“Huh?” Havoc looked up.
“Back to Orly. It’s been bothering me this whole time…that French baker, he knows something.”
“You think so?”
“Yes,” Mustang turned around, his eyes fierce. “I will get the truth out of him, one way or another. Even if I have to torch down that little shop of his. He will tell me everything.”
* *
“Breakfast is served!”
Emiri turned in her chair to see Father John Sadar come bounding in with a small smile on his face, carrying a tray full of food. She stared blearily before giving a wide yawn.
“Not a morning person, I take it?” Sadar raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Zip it, “ Emiri grumbled.
Sadar’s smile turned into a grimace as he sat opposite Emiri. They were dining in the sunroom of the Order’s mansion. The room was illuminated in a white glow; sunlight filtered through the large glass window panes. Palm fronds and foliage lined the perimeter. Sadar rested his chin in his hand, letting his mind wander.
The two ate their meals in silence, the only sounds coming from the birds outside. Sadar stared into his coffee; the faint reflection of a weathered man looked back at him. He was beginning to feel as old as others thought he was.
“Why?”
“Excuse me?” Sadar looked at Emiri.
The young woman set her cup on the table. “Why did you run out on them when they needed you the most?”
Sadar looked taken aback for a second and then regained composure. He leaned forward in his chair.
“That…was a decision we all agreed upon. We chose to break all connections once the conflict became more serious.”
Emiri scowled. “Well, isn’t that convienent for you…”
“You don’t understa–“
“No. YOU don’t understand,” green and orange eyes narrowed. “You turned your backs on them!”
Silence.
When Father Sadar did not respond, Emiri continued. “Your little group of ‘peacemakers’ pisses me off! You’re nothing but middlemen. Rather than helping those who need it, when they need it, you choose to sit back and watch everything happen from your posh mansion. “ She let out a mirthless laugh.
Do you have any idea how shady you all come across?”
Again, Sadar said nothing. Emiri’s scowl deepened.
“Hey, answer me!”
The man rose from his seat and walked to one of the large windows. He squinted in the bright mid-morning sun. He scratched the stubble on his cheek.
“What a difference a few weeks makes, eh…?”
Emiri’s face faltered.
“To think this is the same girl who once tried to kill me with every ounce and fiber of her being, “ Sadar said more to himself than to the woman. “I never thought you would show consideration for anyone other than yourself.”
“We’re not talking about me! We’re talking about you and your little band of merry men,” Emiri stood up, knocking her chair to the floor. “Don’t try to change the subject, betch!”
“Still as feisty as always, “ Sadar turned to her with a hint of a smile on his face.
We have our reasons for doing what we did. Once the time is right, we will make our appearance known.”
“Cryptic, as always…” Emiri folded her arms.
“And what about you? What do you intend to do?”
“If you’re asking me to join your little group, you can forget it.”
“Then why did you come with me?”
Emiri sighed. “I only wanted to ask you a couple of questions.” She looked Sadar in the eye. “You really don’t know where they are?”
Sadar shook his head. “No. I don’t know what’s happened to the Syndicate since the round-up.”
Emiri threw her hands up. “Well, looks like it’s back to square one, then.” She turned around and headed for the door.
“Emiri.”
She glanced over her shoulder, Father Sadar wore a serious expression.
“I don’t know if these words will mean anything to you…but…go with the grace of God.”
“Hmph.”
And with that Emiri walked back into the main building. She headed towards the foyer where Kira stood against a wall, waiting. She did not say anything, but he knew where she was going. And as always, he followed.
* *
As night fell in Orly, a meeting was convening in Landon Blaken’s office building hideout.
Landon sat at his desk, his hands clasped in front of his face, when Gauron came into the room followed by a man in a pimp fur-lined vest and an ouroboros tattoo on his hand. “Our associates have arrived,” Gauron informed Landon.
The newcomer gave the place an appraising look as he sauntered into the room. “So these are the new digs, huh? Not exactly swanky, but I’ve been in worse…”
“I’m glad you could make it, Greed. I’ve been anxious to hear your progress report,” Landon said, ignoring the commentary on his decor.
“Yeah, no problem,” Greed replied, making himself comfortable on the couch. “Hey, where’s the little woman?”
“I sent Cille out on an errand. She’ll be out of our hair for a few hours at least.”
Greed seemed disappointed. “You really have to stop holding out on me and introduce us. A doll like that, and you’re not having any fun with her…”
“She’s not that kind of toy, Greed. Especially not for you.”
“Okay, you don’t have to get all protective…” Greed grumbled. “So I suppose this means she’s still totally in the dark about our little operation? I mean, you can still keep secrets even with a woman around, right?”
“Of course I can. I’m not a fool. Cille knows nothing about our group or what we’re doing. Besides, she’s so caught up with her little ‘save the Syndicate’ mission that it hasn’t even occurred to her that there could be anything else going on. And soon we won’t have to worry about her at all.”
There were three knocks at the door in the outer room, and Gauron went to let in their other comrade. “Hello again, Tres,” he said, showing him into the meeting room. “How does it look out there?”
“All clear,” the android reported in a robotic monotone. “There is no suspicious activity around the building.”
“Excellent. Then I expect we can begin,” Gauron said, looking expectantly at their leader.
“Well? You have the files?” Landon asked.
Greed nodded toward Tres, who produced a file folder and handed it to Landon.
“Everything we’ve gotten since our last meeting is in there,” Greed said. “Unfortunately, there’s not much good news. The Philosopher’s Stone that Tucker has been working on was a complete bust. It couldn’t keep anything alive for more than a few days. So Ritsuko has a new proposal in there that you’ll probably want to take a look at. I didn’t really get it… something having to do with Tang, or something.” The homunculus waved his hand toward the file dismissively.
Landon looked over the contents of the file for a few moments with a furrowed brow. The lack of progress was somewhat frustrating, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. Especially when he had so much to deal with already without taking time to go out to the research facility himself.
“I’ll deal with this later,” he said, pushing the papers aside. “What else have you got to report? Any progress on locating the missing Cille? Or Cougar?”
“Negative,” said Tres. “There was no observable trail leading away from Comdot Estate by which they could be followed. And no trace of them has been observed in the city or surrounding areas since the escape.”
Landon sighed irritably. “Well at least they haven’t shown back up to cause problems for us… If all goes well, though, the Syndicate will be sufficiently under control that it won’t matter if she does come back. If nothing else, none of them know that we were behind her capture or the fake news story. So there’s really no reason for them to be suspicious of us. That’s if we can’t manage to find her before then, of course…”
Greed raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of the Syndicate…” he said, “Da Sombras has been getting antsy. Keeps talking about how you’re ‘wasting time’ with them. He seems to think it would be easier to just drop them and get back to business. Maybe just kill all of them so they don’t cause us any more trouble.”
“It’s too late for that,” Landon answered. “I’ve put too much into that group to just drop them, especially after all the trouble I’ve gone to lately to put myself back in control. Da Sombras just has to realize that they can still be useful. They provide a needed distraction for the government and the public, for one thing. And thanks to them we should be getting some more inside information on the Order of Glass. Which we’re probably going to need, since it seems that the Order of Iron is on the move again.”
“They are, huh?” Gauron said.
“Yeah… I got the call this afternoon. They’ve finally revealed themselves to Ozzal and are trying to coerce her into cooperating with them.”
“Are they a threat to us?” Tres asked.
“Eh… their aims don’t exactly conflict with ours, so as long as they don’t get in our way or decide we’re in theirs, there’s really no reason to clash. We’ll just have to keep a closer eye on them now that they’re working out in the open.”
“What about Ozzal?” Greed asked. “If they’re trying to get to her, and we’re trying to get to her…”
“That’s for Da Sombras to figure out. He’s the one who wanted her as a pawn in the first place,” Landon said.
Greed and Tres exchanged glances. “One other thing Da Sombras wanted,” Greed said. “He says he needs more intel on Ozzal. The stuff you’ve been getting from your new partner, about what’s going to happen in the future. It’s no fair keeping it all to yourself.”
“He’ll get his intel as he needs it. He’ll just have to be patient,” Landon said. What he didn’t say was that he knew that there wasn’t much keeping Da Sombras in check – and keeping him from knowing too much might just prevent him from doing something rash without Landon’s approval.
Greed scowled. “He’s not going to be happy to hear that, you know. And what were you saying about the new Cille? That we’re not going to have to worry about her anymore? You got some big plans for her or something?”
Gauron started chuckling.
“We’re simply biding our time with her now,” Landon answered. “Once I’ve gotten all the use from her that I can, Gauron here will get rid of her before she can get in the way.”
“That seems like a waste…” Greed pouted. “You could at least let me have some fun with her before he gets her…”
“Well, we’ll see,” Landon said. “I suppose she could become useful as a toy after all.”
He joined Gauron in chuckling, and soon all three men were laughing heartily and evilly. Only Tres remained impassive, as was his usual demeanor. Something seemed to catch his attention, and he glanced toward the door out of the corner of his eyes.
“Is there something wrong?” Landon asked, noticing the android’s expression.
“Negative,” Tres answered after a moment, apparently having determined that there was nothing amiss.
“All right then. I suppose I’d better go over these files more carefully before you two leave,” Landon said, opening the folder again. “I’ll need you to pass on some orders, no doubt…”
As the men sat down to discuss their plans for attaining eternal life, a woman dressed in black hurried away from the building and ducked into an alley. She had heard all she needed to hear. And now it was time to think about what she needed to do.
* *
It was a quarter till midnight. Trunks tapped his foot restlessly.
How did I get into this mess?
* *
“HILL!”
Trunks watched in horror as his friend went flying through the air, crashed through a window, and landed on the hard pavement of the street outside. He can’t be…he can’t be… Trunks craned his neck.
Hill coughed up some blood, but he was on his knees. His back was throbbing from hitting the ground with such force, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had enough time to get to his feet before another gigantic, metallic appendage came hurtling towards him. In that brief second he jumped out of the tentacle’s path, watching as it made a small crater in the ground where he had just been standing.
Too close… Hill watched as the metallic limb recoiled back through the hole in the facade of his store.
Goose Maverick stood amidst the debris with a completely blank face. His eyes had turned a milky white and he wore a scowl. If not for the six massive robotic tentacles bursting from the crotch of his pants, one could have mistaken him for some fragged up businessman…Bloody Eye was a popular hobby of the wealthy in Orly. At least with a junkie you knew what you were up against.
“You okay, bud?”
Hill nodded. “Yeah.”
Hill raised his twin magnums at Goose. He caught me off guard that time. It won’t happen again. In the store, Trunks reloaded his shotgun. They would have to do a pincer attack, Trunks realized; that was the only way to inflict some damage and avoid the multi-crotched fiend’s attacks.
He glanced at Hill, he gave him a quick nod. It was now or never.
Trunks ran from behind and fired a round; Hill charged, shooting his twin guns. Goose dodged their shots. Trunks’ eyes widened.
“Keep firing! Don’t let up!” the Brit yelled.
Trunks ran a circle around Goose, looking to edge closer, when the man unleashed an attack. All six robotic limbs began to strike the ground at their opponents’ feet. The two men leapt out of the way of one attack only to have to dodge another. Hill kept firing his guns in-between. Trunks, unfortunately, couldn’t get in a straight shot.
“Any ideas, man?!” Trunks dodged another attack.
Hill dived, barely missing a pair of tentacles aimed his way. He rolled and quickly scrambled to his feet and fired two more shots. He ducked as a third tentacle sliced at his head.
“Find another weapon!”
“O-okay!” Trunks ran towards the back of the shop; the more destructive stuff was kept there.
Goose turned, his tentacles raised in the air, and targeted Trunks. Oh no you don’t! Hill sprinted and fired another round. Two of Goose’s robotic limbs took the damage, but he was unphased. Hill side-jumped as another struck the wall behind him. Dust and debris filled the store; bits of glass and wood littered the ground at their feet.
Good, his attention’s on me. Hill stared into the stony face of his opponent. He reloaded his guns and pulled the triggers.
A sudden burning pain shot through his right hand. Hill blinked. The Colt .45 he had been holding had literally melted.
“Well, this is a problem,” he thought aloud. “You can shoot lasers with those things, eh?”
Goose only stared at him.
“…Okay, then.” Hill sighed. He made a snap decision. He dashed to the cashier counter, laser blasts at his heels. He vaulted over the register and smashed a glass case hanging on the wall. Perfect.
Goose eyed the man, tilting his head slightly. The weaponsmith held a black katana in his right hand and the remaining gun in his left.
Hill leapt at Goose. The world became a blur of sword strikes, tentacles, crimson beams of light and debris. Hill expertly parried the robotic tentacles that came in reach with his sword. He ducked, dodged, side-stepped lasers and swiping metallic limbs. He spun on his heels and fired a shot with his left hand. He barely missed.
“Tch, won’t go down easy, will you?”
“Hill, move outta the way!” Hill turned in time to see Trunks aiming a rocket launcher at their tentacled opponent.
Trunks fired. Time seemed to slow down as the rocket flew the length of the room towards Goose. Even Goose’s stony exterior seemed to crack as the impending projectile neared him. Hill leapt aside and watched in disbelief as the rocket suddenly veered straight up and exploded on the ceiling.
Rubble fell to the ground and a small fire began to burn. The emergency sprinklers went off and drenched the room in a sheet of cold water. Hill coughed through the smoke and drizzle. He opened his eyes in time to see a metallic limb come flying at him.
“DAMN!”
Hill’s weapons fell to the floor as one of Goose’s tentacles wrapped around his body and he was lifted into the air. He couldn’t move and he could barely breathe. He was going to be crushed to death.
Before his vision turned black, Hill caught sight of a flash of light and the next thing he knew he was falling to the ground. The robotic limb that had been holding him had been severed. Goose let out a howl of pain. Hill started coughing, regaining his breath. Trunks threw down his weapon and rushed to his friend’s side.
“Hey, buddy, you alright?” Trunks shook his companion by the shoulder.
Hill sputtered and cast a weary eye on the other man. “…Fine…I’m…fine…” Goose continued to howl.
Trunks looked around bewilderedly. He had seen it too – the flash of white light. He edged towards the fallen limb.
“It’s…paper.” Trunks held up two blank sheets of paper. Hill’s brow furrowed.
Suddenly, Goose let out a roar of fury. Both men looked up in surprise. The remaining five tentacles merged into one singular large appendage. Trunks let out a curse. The monster tentacle coiled back and struck–
The room plunged into freezing darkness. Trunks stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Goose…was literalling turning to ice.
“Now, now, can’t you play nice?”
Trunks and Hill turned in the direction of the voice. Out of the hole in the front of the store stepped a tall blond man dressed in a sharp white suit. He rested a hand on his hip and viewed the scene before him through dark sunglasses.
“Well…fancy meeting you here, Nowhere,” he spoke in a cool voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hill.”
Trunks looked from one man to the other. He then glanced at Goose, immobile and frozen to the spot. Hill frowned.
“Could you have been a second later…?” Hill gruffly asked. The mystery man only smirked.
“I’m sorry we didn’t arrive sooner, Nowhere. I told him to hurry,” a second voice rang. This one was softer; feminine.
Trunks watched as a short woman with dark, waist length hair stepped beside the man. She wore glasses and held a small briefcase in her hands.
“Are you two alright?” she asked, a worried expression on her face.
Hill grunted. “Aside from the being nearly killed part, I’m just peachy. Trunks, you’re alright, right?”
“…..”
“Trunks?”
“…..”
“Oy.”
“Huh? What? Oh yeah, I’m fine.” Trunks nodded his head absent mindedly. What was going on?
As if reading his mind, the man in the suit suddenly spoke. “I’m sure your friend here is wondering what the hell just happened, Hill. Do you want to do the honors or should I be the one?”
Hill got to his feet, wincing in pain. The woman rushed to his side.
“Don’t strain yourself!”
Hill let out a small smile – those were a bit rare from him, Trunks noted – and raised a reassuring hand. “Thanks, it’s not as bad as it looks.” He grimaced.
“Liar.” The woman opened up her briefcase and began to pull out some bandages. Sheets of paper spilled out.
“Nothing gets past you,” Hill chuckled weakly. The woman gave him a reproving look, but then grinned.
Hill let out a heavy sigh. He turned to his friend.
“Trunks…I…”
“I’m November 11,” the blond man interrupted. He pulled out a cigarette from the inside of his jacket. “This is Agent Paper,” he motioned towards the black-haired woman. She gave a small bow. “And he is Nowhere.” Hill’s already sullen face sunk. “We work for MI-6.”
* *
Looking back, Trunks realized it explained how Hill knew about his involvement with the Syndicate. Hard to believe that less than a week ago, he was getting by bumming off his friend; watching movies, helping with the weapons orders, watching movies, cleaning, watching movies… Well, that was all beside the point. He never figured his buddy Hill was a covert operative for jolly ol’ England.
Trunks made a face. He had been surprised, confused, and angry at what had transpired. He didn’t know how to react. Is Hill even his real name? Trunks had known him for the last year or so; was everything he said true? Did he even really like the Godfather? Or was that all a part of the disguise?
And what about those other two? The blond guy seemed to be the leader of the group. He was also a so-called ‘contractor’ with the power to turn any liquid to a block of ice. Or something. Hill didn’t seem to get along with him too well. Hill was always serious and to the point; November 11 was casual and laid-back. They butted heads often. And then there was Miss Yomiko Readman…
Trunks sighed. She was pretty cute, but she seemed to have a thing for Hill. And he appeared to like her too.
He glanced at his watch. 11:51. Barely six minutes had passed. Trunks was starting to feel annoyed. Why the heck was he the one doing reconnaissance anyway?
Somehow, Trunks had been assigned the job of infiltrating this mysterious group…
* *
“What? Why me?”
“Because you’re the least conspicuous one out of all of us,” Hill supplied.
Trunks scoffed. “But you guys are SPIES. Isn’t recon work, like, your JOB?”
“Our orders state we simply cannot make ourselves visible to them,” November 11 said. He kept his eyes on the road in front of him. They were in a small sedan heading out of the city to God knows where. “You’re the most obvious choice. Besides, we kinda saved your ass; it’s the least you can do for us.”
Trunks opened his mouth to say something, but closed it after a second’s thought. He was right.
“I know this must be pretty stressful…” November 11 said after a while. He wore a serious expression. “In exchange for your services, we’ll provide you with a safe place to stay once this is all over.”
Trunks stared at the dark road ahead lost in thought. In the back seat, Yomiko and Hill exchanged looks.
“Don’t worry, Trunks, one of use will always be in contact with you,” Yomiko placed a hand on his shoulder. “And should anything happen, we’ll bail you out.” She gave him a smile.
Trunks raised his eyebrows. He managed to return the smile.
“So…why are you guys investigating these people anyway…?”
November glanced back in the rear-view mirror. Hill nodded. The blond sighed.
“Well, seeing as how you’ve been pulled into this, I guess it shouldn’t hurt… To be frank, our government doesn’t trust the Order.
They may claim to be a neutral party, but they’ve had a history of having a keen interest in world affairs. It’s suspicious to say the least.”
“And they’ve been in Actonia all this time?” Trunks asked.
“Yes,” Hill answered. “From intelligence reports, they seem to have branches in nearly every country in the world.”
“You’re going to do a little covert investigation, that’s all. Find out why they’re really in Actonia, “ November smirked. “Lucky for us they’re accepting new recruits.”
And so, here he was, standing around in the dark in an empty warehouse by the docks. Trunks checked his watch again. 11:52. Gee, was Father Time dragging his ass or what…? The decision was that if he did not make contact within the hour they were going to abort the mission. Secretly, Trunks was hoping he wouldn’t have to play spy.
“Impressive. You’ve actually been waiting here all this time,” a deep voice suddenly broke the silence, making Trunks jump. He looked up.
A tall man wrapped in bandages stepped out of the shadows. Trunks blinked. Is he for real?
“I expected someone with lesser intentions to leave after fifteen minutes,” the man continued. “Looks like you’re serious.”
Trunks narrowed his eyes. Time to play. “I’m very serious about this.”
“Good. Then we won’t have to waste time. Come.”
Trunks followed as the man lead him outside. A beeping in his ear sounded.
“Stage one: Clear,” Hill’s accented voice spoke. “Don’t screw up.”
“I won’t,” Trunks whispered. He kept an eye on the mummy. “Are you sure no one else can hear you?”
“Of course. Codec technology only works between the two on the line. You remember the frequency, right?”
“I remember.”
“Good, then we’ll be in contact with you soon.”
“Hey, Hill,” Trunks spoke in an even more hushed tone.
“What?”
“…Were you just pretending this whole time? Or are you really my friend?”
There was a moment’s silence. Trunks followed the man to a parked car.
“I really haven’t seen Pulp Fiction. And I like the Godfather, so stop ranting to me about my taste in films.”
Trunks grinned.
* *
Leaves danced and twirled, falling silently to the ground. The cool breeze of autumn pushed them along, whistling every so often. Clarice Rowe pressed her forehead against the cool glass of one of the cafe’s front windows, watching the dead leaves. Her headache hadn’t gone away.
She took in a deep breath, the smell of pastries and fresh bread filling her. At first, she had found it to be a distraction, constantly making her hungry. But now she had grown accustomed to the aroma. She couldn’t wait for the holiday months; she could only imagine what sweets Hikki would fill the shop with. Clarice was pulled out of her thoughts by a tap on her arm.
“Um, Miss Clarice?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“I’ve finished the assignment. Do you want to look over it now?” Anne Monroe tilted her head to the side, examining the tired face of her tutor.
Clarice rubbed her temples and gave a small smile to the girl. Even as she reviewed the math problems that Anne had been working on her mind drifted. That idiot.
“Are you okay, Miss Clarice?”
“Huh?” Clarice realized she hadn’t even turned over the page to check the answers on the back. “Oh, I’m sorry, Anne. I just have a lot on my mind.”
Anne bit her lip. “You’re worried about my brother, aren’t you?”
Clarice nearly fell out of her chair.
“What?! No, no, no. NO.”
“…..”
“Okay, okay, I am,” Clarice sighed, her shoulders slumping.
Anne grinned.
“I don’t know what’s happened to him…” Clarice laid her head on the table. For nearly the past two weeks, Samson had shut himself in his room, absorbing himself in work. He would only come out sparingly to eat, use the facilities, and occasionally use the payphone located down the block. And when he did come outside he was usually moody and stand-offish. Clarice couldn’t help but worry.
“Sammie’s weird that way,” Anne rested an elbow on the table. “He’s always liked to work. And when he does, he forgets about everything else.”
Clarice lifted her head. Anne was staring down at the table, running a finger along the tile work.
“Hikki’s worried about him,” Clarice tried to sound as non-chalant as she could. “He’s a little depressed…I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I rather have a Hikki constantly hitting on Sam than a depressed Hikki…” Her voice trailed off.
Anne raised an inquisitive eye at the older woman.
“Hikki’s not the only one sad.”
Again, Clarice swayed threateningly on her seat.
“Actually, I’m worried too,” Anne said softly. Clarice felt a sudden pang of maternal instinct and wrapped an arm around her.
That idiot. Sam, you’re a lousy brother for making your sister cry.
Clarice rubbed Anne’s shoulder and again retreated to her own thoughts. Why was she so worried about him in the first place? Was it only for Hikki and Anne’s sakes? Upon first meeting Samson, she had thought of him as a naive, idealistic young man. He was slightly cute (in a dorky sort of way) but also admirable. His hope was contagious and Clarice soon found herself sharing the same aspirations. To see that vigor slowly turn into bitterness broke her heart.
I thought you’d never change…
Anne rubbed her eyes. Clarice pulled away, allowing the girl to regain her composure. She once again caught herself staring at Anne. She really does look a lot like her brother.
The bell to the front door rang. Both women looked up to see Samson come walking in with the cool autumn breeze at his heels. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trench coat and he wore a grim expression. Clarice noticed that the dark circles under his eyes had become more prominent.
“Sammie…”
Samson turned and looked his sister in the eye. “Anne, get back to your studies.” He turned his gaze to Clarice. “You better not be slacking off either.”
He stomped his way to the back corridor. Clarice shoved off from the table and followed him.
“Samson!”
“What?”
“What is your problem? That’s the first I’ve seen of you all day and you reprimand me on my teaching?”
“I was only reminding you why you’re here,” Samson stated.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” the sarcasm was dripping off every word. “You should be nicer to your sister–“
“That’s none of your business,” Samson cut across her. “Don’t tell me how to treat my own family.”
“Sam…I…that’s not what I…”
“Is that all?”
“Huh?”
“Is there anything else you wanted to say?” Samson stared at her impatiently.
Clarice’s brows furrowed. “Samson…what the hell?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The words reverberated off the walls. “You lock yourself up in your room, you barely talk to us… Hikki is upset, Anne is upset, I’M UPSET! You’re not acting normal!”
“I’m sorry, but the situation we’re in is not normal, Clarice. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re in the middle of a rebellion. People are dying, have died. Excuse me if I’m the only one actually doing anything productive around here.” And with that, he threw open the door to his room, slamming it in Clarice’s face.
Clarice stood there, reeling. The words echoed in her ears. She kicked the door in frustration and turned on her heel.
YOU IDIOT! We’re just worried about you… I’m worried about you. I care about…
She stopped in her tracks. What was she saying to herself? She liked Sam? Of course she did…as a friend. But, did she like him as more than just a friend? Her mind had been plagued with thoughts of Samson over the past two weeks. Is that normal? She cursed him again. He’d been so moody with them all; naturally, she was concerned. But then, why did she light up everytime she saw him? Clarice shook her head. She was stressed out. They all were.
* *
Samson crumpled into his chair. He raised his feet onto the desk. He glanced at his reflection in the small mirror atop the workspace.
“Damn it!” He kicked stacks of paper and books to the floor with his foot.
Two weeks. It had been a full two weeks since Jake Thompson had been sent undercover to investigate Father Sadar’s mysterious organization and he STILL hadn’t heard a single word from him. He had just been standing outside for the past couple of hours waiting near the only working payphone in the district (little did the general populous know that it was one of the Syndicate’s underground communication lines). Samson sneezed.
“Oh great, now I’m gonna catch a cold,” he said bitterly.
Sam reclined in the wooden chair. What the hell was Jake doing? Why had a full fourteen days passed without any contact? Samson scowled. He had been rummaging through these thoughts for the past weeks, all the while, he conducted his own investigations on the mysterious group of glass-cross-wearing hippies. According to witnesses, these strangers had been spotted all over Orly the night in which the Syndicate round-up occurred. Samson ran a hand through his black hair, frowning.
He didn’t trust Father Sadar anymore. How could he? The man turned his back on his supposed ‘friends’ the night in which many of the group’s members were captured and/or killed. It infuriated Samson. He felt betrayed; as if he were tossed aside like one of Angel’s many late night liaisons.
Instead of helping us, he chose to run back to the shadows… Sadar, you bastard. I can’t believe I let him play me for a fool like that!
In a fury, Samson picked up the mirror and chucked it into the wall, watching it burst into a thousand tiny shards of glittering crystals. He was literally shaking with anger. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.
Maybe it was because he had grown close to the man and respected him that Samson was so preoccupied with Sadar’s true identity. Samson didn’t understand why the others weren’t as upset with him. Sadar turned his back on all of them. And to top things off, he could barely get more than a couple of words from Landon. The leader of the Syndicate was always busy doing who-knows-what that it made it near impossible for anyone to sit down and talk with him. Landon just handed out orders and then left everything to his subordinates.
We’re a mess, Samson thought. If Sadar hadn’t walked out on us, we’d probably be doing a hell of a lot better.
Samson was about to throw himself on his bed when he felt the vibration of his mobile phone. He pulled it out. An unknown number.
April? Or was it Angel? Both were scouring (or in Angel’s case, whoring) the streets for information. Samson raised the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“JAKE?!” Sam leapt to his feet. “Where the hell have you been?! I haven’t heard a peep from you for the past two weeks!”
“I know, I know–“
“And why are you calling my cell?! You know we agreed that you’d call the payphone!”
“I know, I know. I couldn’t remember the number, so I speed-dialed you. Anyway, I have free time tonight, we can meet now.”
“Midnight behind the WcDonald’s on Fifth and Park,” Samson said briskly.
“See you then.”
Midnight came. Samson marched down the back street behind the WcDonald’s. He spotted Jake standing underneath the only functioning streetlight, hands in his pockets.
“What happened? Why haven’t you contacted me until now?” Samson glared.
“I’m sorry, Sam. Things got to a rough start the night I went to meet with Sadar’s guys,” Jake hung his head. “I was attacked as soon as I showed up, man.”
“What?! By who?!”
“By a member of the Order of Iron,” Jake answered.
“What? Order of Iron?”
“Yes. Sadar and his people are members of an organization known as the Order of Glass. They’re the ones that wear the glass crosses.
There is another Order. The Order of Iron is made up of former members of the Glass. They apparently broke off from the main group and formed their own organization. At least, that’s how the story goes.”
“What’s the difference between the two? I don’t even know what the deal is with the Glass people…” Samson frowned.
“The Glass is a neutral party. Or, at least, that’s what I was told. They’re ‘peacemakers’. They claim they don’t like to get involved in combat,” Jake explained.
“Give me a break. Then why the hell were Sadar and his people working in the Syndicate with us?”
“Apparently, they were mainly there to ‘observe’. I haven’t discovered what their true purpose is, but this is not the first time they’ve played the role of the third party in a war-torn country. They have branches across the globe, in every major country; they’re very organized.
But, there is a common element to every conflict they’ve been involved with.”
Samson raised an eyebrow.
“Every war the Glass has been involved in always involved the other Order – the Iron.”
“Are you saying these Iron people are here too?”
“Seems that way. But, I haven’t proved it one-hundred percent. I’m still a newbie as far as they’re concerned; they haven’t told me everything.” Jake gave a weak smile. “Hell, most of this I discovered on my own listening in on their conversations.”
Samson rubbed his chin. “So, looks like we have two mysterious groups to keep track of now. Damn that Sadar. What else has he been keeping from us?”
“That’s all I know, man,” Jake replied.
“That’s it? That’s…really not that much considering how long you’ve been out of contact,” Samson said bitterly.
“I was injured. For about the first few days there I was recovering, man,” Jake shifted his weight. “They wouldn’t let me in on any of the meetings until afterwards. And since then I’ve mainly been training. For supposed peacemakers, these people know how to fight pretty damn well.”
“Anything else?” Samson sighed.
“Um…nothing major. They gained a couple new members. One of them went by ‘Trunks’ or something.”
“Trunks? The pub owner?”
“You know him?” Jake looked quizzically at Samson.
“Yeah…the Syndicate set up base at his bar several times. I don’t think he ever really liked us being there though; his place kept getting thrashed all the time.” Samson folded his arms. “Jake, try to get more out of these Glass people. We need to know why they’re really in Actonia and why they’re involved in this rebellion. Be careful around Sadar, especially.”
“Still don’t trust him…?”
“Of course not,” Sam threw Jake a disgusted look. The streetlight flickered for a second. Samson checked his watch. “Get back to the Order. Find out as much as you can and contact me ASAP. Don’t make me wait another fourteen days.”
Jake stared at the ground. “Okay,” he said quietly.
Samson turned on his heel, leaving Jake standing alone in the deserted street.
The following morning Samson woke up after having only gotten four hours worth of sleep. He wanted to grab one of Hikki’s new batch of muffins and get back to work when he heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat. He turned around, a muffin already in his mouth.
“Where did you disappear to last night?” Clarice stood in the frame of the doorway leading to the back rooms, her hands on her hips and wearing a stern face.
“Ah finery et wif ‘ake.”
“Uh, say again?”
Sam took a bite off the muffin and swallowed. “I said, I finally met with Jake.”
“What’d he say?” Clarice tilted her head to one side.
Samson took another bite. “Looks like there are two of these mysterious groups running around out there. The Order of Glass and the Order of Iron. Sadar’s with the Glass.
But, we still don’t know what their objective is. All we know is that they’re here and they’re all secretive and stuff.”
Clarice let her arms drop. “So, we’re back to square one…”
Samson gritted his teeth. They had accomplished little in two weeks. Perhaps sending Jake on the mission wasn’t the best decision. Maybe Samson should have gone in his stead…
“I will find out what Sadar’s up to. I can’t forgive that guy.”
“Don’t you think you’re taking this all a little too personally?” Clarice’s eyes met Samson’s.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you have a vendetta against the guy. You admired him, so, of course, you feel betrayed.
But, you shouldn’t turn this into a crusade against the man.”
Samson’s nostrils flared. He couldn’t believe what she was saying.
“In case you haven’t forgotten, the man walked out on ALL OF US,” his voice was rising with each word. “Our comrades were getting killed left and right. Those lucky enough to survive were captured – including us. You remember that part, right?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “The man did NOTHING to help us.”
Clarice opened her mouth to speak, but Samson pressed on.
“If he’s not on our side, then who’s is he on? The man’s a threat.”
“You don’t even know that. You’re just saying what you want to believe.”
Samson froze.
“Looks like I was right.”
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“No, you’re the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’ve become obsessed, Samson!”
“Just because I’m the only one trying to do anything about it doesn’t make me ‘obsessed’! You certainly aren’t helping. And what about Landon? Oh, that’s right, he’s always so busy he can’t even drop in to say a word or two! The Syndicate has been sitting on it’s butt for too long; it’s time we took an offensive.”
“Listen to yourself! You know perfectly well that Landon’s focused on Ozzal, not hunting down some priest. He has to udokuat things.”
“I wonder about that,” Samson sneered. “What has Landon done as of late? NOTHING. We’ve only seen him once since the regrouping. He just issues orders down to his udoku, and then those orders come to Hikki and the others. Lord knows how much of what we hear is filtered!”
Clarice couldn’t think of what to say. She realized Samson had a point. But that didn’t change her opinion that Samson was making Sadar out to be a nefarious villain when, in reality, nobody knew what he was.
“Yeah…you just keep quiet. You have no right to butt in when you haven’t contributed ANYTHING to the Syndicate. AT ALL.” Samson stalked past Clarice, turned into the hallway, and was promptly met with a slap in the face. He spun around. He expected to see Clarice fuming at the spot, but instead, was shocked to see it was Hikki who had dealt the blow. Hikki was breathing hard, his face scrunched up.
“I DON’T EVAIR WANT TO HEAR YOU SPEAK LIKE ZAT AGAIN!”
Clarice gaped at the two of them.
Hikki recomposed himself. He had been in the kitchen all morning baking and was covered in flour and sugar. There was a white imprint of his hand where he had struck Samson.
“Chu, you’ve gotten vairy moody lately. You don’t speak to us. And when you do, you usually shout at us for our zo-called-eencompetence,” Hikki huffed his way into the front of the cafe. “You’ve changed. And I don’t like eet one beet.”
Samson stared wide-eyed, still in shock.
“Everyone een ze Syndicate plays an eemportant role, not just you. Eef you evair speak to Clarice like zat again, I weel pairsonally make sure you regret eet for ze rest of your life,” Hikki turned, glaring daggers at Sam. “Now, eef you two would kindly go grab ze new batch of sneecker-doodels I made and set zem on ze countair here, we can go on weez our day. Zees ees udok a cafe; save ze angsting for latair.”
“Yes, I’d like to have one of those snicker-doodles myself, if you’ll please hurry…”
Everyone’s head turned towards the door. The customer who had just walked in was none other than the Flame Alchemist himself, Roy Mustang. He pulled a white glove onto his right hand and stretched his fingers.
“Hello again, monsieur Follet. I want you to tell me everything this time.”
* *
“Emiri?”
“Oui.”
“And you’re sure this girl’s the one who killed Heero?”
“We’re almost poseeteev eet was hair doing.”
“I see,” Mustang sat back in his chair. Hikki had finally resigned to telling Mustang the truth behind Heero and Riza’s deaths after having the cafe threatened to be turned into matchsticks. It was probably the most uncomfortable conversation the Frenchman had ever had, filled with awkward punctuations of silence. For his part, Roy had maintained a stoic front; though Hikki was certain he saw flickers of emotion in the man’s eyes.
“What do we do next, Colonel?” Havoc put out his cigarette in the ash tray.
“Where is this Emiri?” Mustang leaned forward.
“Zat ees a good question,” Hikki shrugged.
“Well, lucky for her. When I find her, she’s dead.”
As if on cue, the front door bell rang and a loud voice echoed in the building.
“FINALLY! Do you have any idea how long it took us to get here? We got side-tracked there for a couple of chapters!”
“Emiri!”
“Huh, what?”
“Fourth wall!” Izuru Kira hissed.
“Oh, crap! Uh, ignore that.”
A deadly silence filled the room. All eyes were on the pair. Emiri blinked.
“Yo!” She waved a hand at the group before her. Again, silence.
“Ooookaaay… Kira, what’s their problem?” she whispered to her udokua.
Kira brushed a blond strand from his eyes. “I think they may be a little surprised that Ozzal’s ex-assassin suddenly showed up on their doorstep.”
Emiri pouted.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Samson jumped to his feet, breaking the silence.
“Oh, hey!” Emiri beamed, recognizing Sam. “We’re here to join the Syndicate, of course!”
“WHAT?!” Sam, Hikki, Clarice, Mustang, and Havoc shrieked in unison.
“You guys are seriously lacking a kickass babe in your roster, so I thought, ‘what the hell?’” Emiri flashed another grin.
Hikki stared blankly at the girl. He glanced over at Clarice who look just as stunned. He turned towards Sam when, for the second time, the front of the cafe exploded.
Fire burst through the room in a flash. Brick and glass rained down on the outside street. A dark cloud of smoke billowed in the autumn wind. Emiri coughed, Kira placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Ugh…yeah…” Emiri checked all her limbs. “Still intact.”
“Pity, I missed.” Mustang walked through the new hole in the building; sparks emitting from his gloved right hand.
“Good try, Colonel,” Havoc slapped Roy on the back.
“And who the hell are you?” Emiri dusted off the dirt and debris stuck to her clothes.
“The man who’s going to kill you!” Mustang snapped his fingers once more. Fire snaked its way to the young woman, but Kira blocked the embers with a sweep of his Zanpakuto. Mustang’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Colonel.” Kira sheathed his sword. “You’ll have to go through me first if you wish to kill this girl.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Wait, wait. Sir, let me handle this,” Havoc blocked Mustang’s line of fire. He unshouldered the rifle he was carrying. “I haven’t been in the action as of late; I think it’s time I get my requisite fight scene.”
Mustang eyed his udokuate then Kira. “Alright. I’ll leave him to you.”
Havoc smiled.
“Well, what do you say, pretty boy? Ready to get your ass kicked?”
“I’d like to see you try,” Kira entered into a stance.
“You better not lose, betch,” Emiri mocked. Kira gave her a ghost of a smile. “As for you,” she turned her attention to the alchemist, “I don’t know what your problem is. I really don’t want to have to fight ya, but if you won’t even listen to–“
Mustang snapped his fingers. An explosion of fire knocked Emiri off her feet and she was tossed into a lamp post.
“Emiri!” Kira yelled.
Emiri regained her footing. The lamp post was bent in half from where she struck it. “That’s pretty rude. You should let people finish what they’re saying before you attack.”
“I don’t show etiquette for murderers.” Mustang snapped his fingers once more. Emiri somersaulted into the air, barely avoiding the blast. She landed on the roof of the building Mustang had hit instead.
“Tch,” Emiri scowled. From her new vantage point she scanned the area. She’d have to lead the man away to a place where he could cause less damage. She leapt to the neighboring roof. Mustang ran after her.
Leaping from roof to roof, Emiri felt the heat of flames at her back. Good, she thought, working so far. She jumped and rolled onto a two story building when the roof gave way beneath her. She fell through plaster and wood and landed with a thud on concrete. She spat up blood.
Emiri glanced up at the hole she had just fallen through. She was on the first floor. She slowly stood up. Save for the light from the hole, the room was dark, she saw specks of dust floating before her.
“Well, this makes things easier for me. DIE!”
The entire room suddenly burst into flame. Mustang had set the building ablaze. Emiri barely had time to make sense of what happened. She ran out of the quarters, down a hallway, and dived through a window. Again, she scrambled to her feet. A crowd of people had gathered around her. She was near the park she had seen. A scream from the throng caught her attention; she looked back to see the edifice collapse.
“Talk about close…”
“But no cigar!” A fireball flew at Emiri. Her eyes widened in surprise. Bodies scrambled as smoke filled the air.
Mustang strained through the dark clouds. Did I get her?
“You missed.” Emiri coughed. Mustang had hit a large tree instead.
The girl then charged at the alchemist, unsheathing her chainblade. Mustang dodged as the blade struck ground.
“Why the hell are you trying to kill me?! Who do you think I am!”
“You’re a murderer. I’m merely providing justice.”
“What? Did I kill your grandmother or something?!”
“Try ex-fiancee,” Mustang growled.
Emiri stopped in her tracks. Ex-fiancee? She frowned, trying to recall who.
“Riza Hawkeye. Name ring a bell?” Mustang asked ferociously.
Her?
“I didn’t kill her!”
“Oh yes, you did. You may not have swung your sword, but your sadistic murdering of her husband led to her death.”
Emiri’s stomach dropped. Memories of a married team of snipers and disembowled cavities engulfed her. Them…
“You remember now?” Mustang sneered. He raised his hand. “Let that be the last thing you recall before your death!”
Emiri couldn’t move. She was going to die. She was going to burn to death and that would be the end. Well, at least she would go out fighting. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a small figure. NO!
The explosion rocked the ground. Mustang stared into the flames. The girl couldn’t have survived.
“You bastard!”
Roy took a step back in disbelief. “It can’t be…”
Emiri held a small girl in her arms, surrounding them was a blinding shield of light. The fire died down and disappeared.
Emiri had saved a child that was left behind by the crowd that had fled earlier.
“Kill me all you want, just don’t put any innocent kids in the crossfire!”
To be continued…
Cast of Characters (In order of appearance):
Jean Havoc (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Roy Mustang (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Emiri - _Boxers_
John Sadar/Furion – FurionTassadar
Izuru Kira (Bleach)
Landon Blaken – Blah_canbespanish
Gauron (Full Metal Panic!)
Greed (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Tres Iqus (Trinity Blood)
future!Cille (or Cille of the future!) – Cille
Trunks – Trunks378
Hill/Nowhere – fool_on_the_hill
Goose Maverick – Top_Gun
November 11 (Darker than BLACK)
Yomiko Readman/Agent Paper (Read or Die)
Schwartzwald (Big O)
Clarice Rowe – QueenoftheDorks
Anne Monroe (as herself)
Samson Monroe – MasterSamson
Jake Thompson – SportsMaster
Hikki Follet – Kohikki
Also mentioned in this chapter are Shou Tucker (Fullmetal Alchemist) and Ritsuko Akagi (Neon Genesis Evangelion).
Author’s Notes:
- “If not for the six massive robotic tentacles bursting from the crotch of his pants, one could have mistaken him for some fragged up businessman…Bloody Eye was a popular hobby of the wealthy in Orly.” This is a reference to the drug used by Asimov in the first episode of Cowboy Bebop, “Asteroid Blues”.
- The character of November 11 is from the BONES anime series, Darker than BLACK. In the series, he really is a member of the Secret Intelligent Service (MI-6) and a contractor. His ability is to freeze any liquid, the remuneration being he has to smoke (which he hates). He defeats Goose Maverick by freezing the water from the emergency sprinklers that were set off in the weapons store.
- Yomiko Readman (from Read or Die) is able to use paper as a weapon in the anime. This is how she severs one of Goose’s tentacles.
- Hill’s alias “Nowhere” comes from the Beatles song “Nowhere Man” from their 1965 LP, Rubber Soul.
- The “Codec technology” Hill and Trunks use to communicate is the same from the Metal Gear Solid videogame series.
- The WcDonald’s Samson and Jake meet behind is the same fast food chain from InuYasha.
- Emiri was able to save herself and the child from Roy’s fireball by using Kido (the form of magic in Bleach). However, that shield spell is the only Kido she knows.
- The chapter’s title ( “Fixing a Hole” ) comes from the Beatles song of the same name, featured on the famous 1967 album, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Obvious references to Fullmetal Alchemist and End of Evangelion in the scene with Landon.
Jean Havoc took a puff of his cigarette. He exhaled deeply as he leaned against the hood of the car, taking in the view before him. The sun was beginning to rise, bathing the landscape in an ethereal glow. The dewdrops that sprinkled the grass glistened like jewels in the dawn light. Swirls of cigarette smoke waltzed in mid-air, led by a gentle breeze.
“So, what now, Colonel?”
Roy Mustang stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, overlooking the crescent valley they had parked by. For the past few weeks, he and his loyal subordinate had scoured all of Actonia, and even the fringes of Babblstan, for any little morsel that would lead them to the truth behind the death of Riza Hawkeye. They had hit a dead end. The wind tossled Roy’s dark hair and then returned to a mere whisper.
Havoc sighed. Mustang had become increasingly aloof over the last few days. Their search was taking a toll.
“We’re heading back.”
“Huh?” Havoc looked up.
“Back to Orly. It’s been bothering me this whole time…that French baker, he knows something.”
“You think so?”
“Yes,” Mustang turned around, his eyes fierce. “I will get the truth out of him, one way or another. Even if I have to torch down that little shop of his. He will tell me everything.”
* *
“Breakfast is served!”
Emiri turned in her chair to see Father John Sadar come bounding in with a small smile on his face, carrying a tray full of food. She stared blearily before giving a wide yawn.
“Not a morning person, I take it?” Sadar raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Zip it, “ Emiri grumbled.
Sadar’s smile turned into a grimace as he sat opposite Emiri. They were dining in the sunroom of the Order’s mansion. The room was illuminated in a white glow; sunlight filtered through the large glass window panes. Palm fronds and foliage lined the perimeter. Sadar rested his chin in his hand, letting his mind wander.
The two ate their meals in silence, the only sounds coming from the birds outside. Sadar stared into his coffee; the faint reflection of a weathered man looked back at him. He was beginning to feel as old as others thought he was.
“Why?”
“Excuse me?” Sadar looked at Emiri.
The young woman set her cup on the table. “Why did you run out on them when they needed you the most?”
Sadar looked taken aback for a second and then regained composure. He leaned forward in his chair.
“That…was a decision we all agreed upon. We chose to break all connections once the conflict became more serious.”
Emiri scowled. “Well, isn’t that convienent for you…”
“You don’t understa–“
“No. YOU don’t understand,” green and orange eyes narrowed. “You turned your backs on them!”
Silence.
When Father Sadar did not respond, Emiri continued. “Your little group of ‘peacemakers’ pisses me off! You’re nothing but middlemen. Rather than helping those who need it, when they need it, you choose to sit back and watch everything happen from your posh mansion. “ She let out a mirthless laugh.
Do you have any idea how shady you all come across?”
Again, Sadar said nothing. Emiri’s scowl deepened.
“Hey, answer me!”
The man rose from his seat and walked to one of the large windows. He squinted in the bright mid-morning sun. He scratched the stubble on his cheek.
“What a difference a few weeks makes, eh…?”
Emiri’s face faltered.
“To think this is the same girl who once tried to kill me with every ounce and fiber of her being, “ Sadar said more to himself than to the woman. “I never thought you would show consideration for anyone other than yourself.”
“We’re not talking about me! We’re talking about you and your little band of merry men,” Emiri stood up, knocking her chair to the floor. “Don’t try to change the subject, betch!”
“Still as feisty as always, “ Sadar turned to her with a hint of a smile on his face.
We have our reasons for doing what we did. Once the time is right, we will make our appearance known.”
“Cryptic, as always…” Emiri folded her arms.
“And what about you? What do you intend to do?”
“If you’re asking me to join your little group, you can forget it.”
“Then why did you come with me?”
Emiri sighed. “I only wanted to ask you a couple of questions.” She looked Sadar in the eye. “You really don’t know where they are?”
Sadar shook his head. “No. I don’t know what’s happened to the Syndicate since the round-up.”
Emiri threw her hands up. “Well, looks like it’s back to square one, then.” She turned around and headed for the door.
“Emiri.”
She glanced over her shoulder, Father Sadar wore a serious expression.
“I don’t know if these words will mean anything to you…but…go with the grace of God.”
“Hmph.”
And with that Emiri walked back into the main building. She headed towards the foyer where Kira stood against a wall, waiting. She did not say anything, but he knew where she was going. And as always, he followed.
* *
As night fell in Orly, a meeting was convening in Landon Blaken’s office building hideout.
Landon sat at his desk, his hands clasped in front of his face, when Gauron came into the room followed by a man in a pimp fur-lined vest and an ouroboros tattoo on his hand. “Our associates have arrived,” Gauron informed Landon.
The newcomer gave the place an appraising look as he sauntered into the room. “So these are the new digs, huh? Not exactly swanky, but I’ve been in worse…”
“I’m glad you could make it, Greed. I’ve been anxious to hear your progress report,” Landon said, ignoring the commentary on his decor.
“Yeah, no problem,” Greed replied, making himself comfortable on the couch. “Hey, where’s the little woman?”
“I sent Cille out on an errand. She’ll be out of our hair for a few hours at least.”
Greed seemed disappointed. “You really have to stop holding out on me and introduce us. A doll like that, and you’re not having any fun with her…”
“She’s not that kind of toy, Greed. Especially not for you.”
“Okay, you don’t have to get all protective…” Greed grumbled. “So I suppose this means she’s still totally in the dark about our little operation? I mean, you can still keep secrets even with a woman around, right?”
“Of course I can. I’m not a fool. Cille knows nothing about our group or what we’re doing. Besides, she’s so caught up with her little ‘save the Syndicate’ mission that it hasn’t even occurred to her that there could be anything else going on. And soon we won’t have to worry about her at all.”
There were three knocks at the door in the outer room, and Gauron went to let in their other comrade. “Hello again, Tres,” he said, showing him into the meeting room. “How does it look out there?”
“All clear,” the android reported in a robotic monotone. “There is no suspicious activity around the building.”
“Excellent. Then I expect we can begin,” Gauron said, looking expectantly at their leader.
“Well? You have the files?” Landon asked.
Greed nodded toward Tres, who produced a file folder and handed it to Landon.
“Everything we’ve gotten since our last meeting is in there,” Greed said. “Unfortunately, there’s not much good news. The Philosopher’s Stone that Tucker has been working on was a complete bust. It couldn’t keep anything alive for more than a few days. So Ritsuko has a new proposal in there that you’ll probably want to take a look at. I didn’t really get it… something having to do with Tang, or something.” The homunculus waved his hand toward the file dismissively.
Landon looked over the contents of the file for a few moments with a furrowed brow. The lack of progress was somewhat frustrating, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. Especially when he had so much to deal with already without taking time to go out to the research facility himself.
“I’ll deal with this later,” he said, pushing the papers aside. “What else have you got to report? Any progress on locating the missing Cille? Or Cougar?”
“Negative,” said Tres. “There was no observable trail leading away from Comdot Estate by which they could be followed. And no trace of them has been observed in the city or surrounding areas since the escape.”
Landon sighed irritably. “Well at least they haven’t shown back up to cause problems for us… If all goes well, though, the Syndicate will be sufficiently under control that it won’t matter if she does come back. If nothing else, none of them know that we were behind her capture or the fake news story. So there’s really no reason for them to be suspicious of us. That’s if we can’t manage to find her before then, of course…”
Greed raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of the Syndicate…” he said, “Da Sombras has been getting antsy. Keeps talking about how you’re ‘wasting time’ with them. He seems to think it would be easier to just drop them and get back to business. Maybe just kill all of them so they don’t cause us any more trouble.”
“It’s too late for that,” Landon answered. “I’ve put too much into that group to just drop them, especially after all the trouble I’ve gone to lately to put myself back in control. Da Sombras just has to realize that they can still be useful. They provide a needed distraction for the government and the public, for one thing. And thanks to them we should be getting some more inside information on the Order of Glass. Which we’re probably going to need, since it seems that the Order of Iron is on the move again.”
“They are, huh?” Gauron said.
“Yeah… I got the call this afternoon. They’ve finally revealed themselves to Ozzal and are trying to coerce her into cooperating with them.”
“Are they a threat to us?” Tres asked.
“Eh… their aims don’t exactly conflict with ours, so as long as they don’t get in our way or decide we’re in theirs, there’s really no reason to clash. We’ll just have to keep a closer eye on them now that they’re working out in the open.”
“What about Ozzal?” Greed asked. “If they’re trying to get to her, and we’re trying to get to her…”
“That’s for Da Sombras to figure out. He’s the one who wanted her as a pawn in the first place,” Landon said.
Greed and Tres exchanged glances. “One other thing Da Sombras wanted,” Greed said. “He says he needs more intel on Ozzal. The stuff you’ve been getting from your new partner, about what’s going to happen in the future. It’s no fair keeping it all to yourself.”
“He’ll get his intel as he needs it. He’ll just have to be patient,” Landon said. What he didn’t say was that he knew that there wasn’t much keeping Da Sombras in check – and keeping him from knowing too much might just prevent him from doing something rash without Landon’s approval.
Greed scowled. “He’s not going to be happy to hear that, you know. And what were you saying about the new Cille? That we’re not going to have to worry about her anymore? You got some big plans for her or something?”
Gauron started chuckling.
“We’re simply biding our time with her now,” Landon answered. “Once I’ve gotten all the use from her that I can, Gauron here will get rid of her before she can get in the way.”
“That seems like a waste…” Greed pouted. “You could at least let me have some fun with her before he gets her…”
“Well, we’ll see,” Landon said. “I suppose she could become useful as a toy after all.”
He joined Gauron in chuckling, and soon all three men were laughing heartily and evilly. Only Tres remained impassive, as was his usual demeanor. Something seemed to catch his attention, and he glanced toward the door out of the corner of his eyes.
“Is there something wrong?” Landon asked, noticing the android’s expression.
“Negative,” Tres answered after a moment, apparently having determined that there was nothing amiss.
“All right then. I suppose I’d better go over these files more carefully before you two leave,” Landon said, opening the folder again. “I’ll need you to pass on some orders, no doubt…”
As the men sat down to discuss their plans for attaining eternal life, a woman dressed in black hurried away from the building and ducked into an alley. She had heard all she needed to hear. And now it was time to think about what she needed to do.
* *
It was a quarter till midnight. Trunks tapped his foot restlessly.
How did I get into this mess?
* *
“HILL!”
Trunks watched in horror as his friend went flying through the air, crashed through a window, and landed on the hard pavement of the street outside. He can’t be…he can’t be… Trunks craned his neck.
Hill coughed up some blood, but he was on his knees. His back was throbbing from hitting the ground with such force, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had enough time to get to his feet before another gigantic, metallic appendage came hurtling towards him. In that brief second he jumped out of the tentacle’s path, watching as it made a small crater in the ground where he had just been standing.
Too close… Hill watched as the metallic limb recoiled back through the hole in the facade of his store.
Goose Maverick stood amidst the debris with a completely blank face. His eyes had turned a milky white and he wore a scowl. If not for the six massive robotic tentacles bursting from the crotch of his pants, one could have mistaken him for some fragged up businessman…Bloody Eye was a popular hobby of the wealthy in Orly. At least with a junkie you knew what you were up against.
“You okay, bud?”
Hill nodded. “Yeah.”
Hill raised his twin magnums at Goose. He caught me off guard that time. It won’t happen again. In the store, Trunks reloaded his shotgun. They would have to do a pincer attack, Trunks realized; that was the only way to inflict some damage and avoid the multi-crotched fiend’s attacks.
He glanced at Hill, he gave him a quick nod. It was now or never.
Trunks ran from behind and fired a round; Hill charged, shooting his twin guns. Goose dodged their shots. Trunks’ eyes widened.
“Keep firing! Don’t let up!” the Brit yelled.
Trunks ran a circle around Goose, looking to edge closer, when the man unleashed an attack. All six robotic limbs began to strike the ground at their opponents’ feet. The two men leapt out of the way of one attack only to have to dodge another. Hill kept firing his guns in-between. Trunks, unfortunately, couldn’t get in a straight shot.
“Any ideas, man?!” Trunks dodged another attack.
Hill dived, barely missing a pair of tentacles aimed his way. He rolled and quickly scrambled to his feet and fired two more shots. He ducked as a third tentacle sliced at his head.
“Find another weapon!”
“O-okay!” Trunks ran towards the back of the shop; the more destructive stuff was kept there.
Goose turned, his tentacles raised in the air, and targeted Trunks. Oh no you don’t! Hill sprinted and fired another round. Two of Goose’s robotic limbs took the damage, but he was unphased. Hill side-jumped as another struck the wall behind him. Dust and debris filled the store; bits of glass and wood littered the ground at their feet.
Good, his attention’s on me. Hill stared into the stony face of his opponent. He reloaded his guns and pulled the triggers.
A sudden burning pain shot through his right hand. Hill blinked. The Colt .45 he had been holding had literally melted.
“Well, this is a problem,” he thought aloud. “You can shoot lasers with those things, eh?”
Goose only stared at him.
“…Okay, then.” Hill sighed. He made a snap decision. He dashed to the cashier counter, laser blasts at his heels. He vaulted over the register and smashed a glass case hanging on the wall. Perfect.
Goose eyed the man, tilting his head slightly. The weaponsmith held a black katana in his right hand and the remaining gun in his left.
Hill leapt at Goose. The world became a blur of sword strikes, tentacles, crimson beams of light and debris. Hill expertly parried the robotic tentacles that came in reach with his sword. He ducked, dodged, side-stepped lasers and swiping metallic limbs. He spun on his heels and fired a shot with his left hand. He barely missed.
“Tch, won’t go down easy, will you?”
“Hill, move outta the way!” Hill turned in time to see Trunks aiming a rocket launcher at their tentacled opponent.
Trunks fired. Time seemed to slow down as the rocket flew the length of the room towards Goose. Even Goose’s stony exterior seemed to crack as the impending projectile neared him. Hill leapt aside and watched in disbelief as the rocket suddenly veered straight up and exploded on the ceiling.
Rubble fell to the ground and a small fire began to burn. The emergency sprinklers went off and drenched the room in a sheet of cold water. Hill coughed through the smoke and drizzle. He opened his eyes in time to see a metallic limb come flying at him.
“DAMN!”
Hill’s weapons fell to the floor as one of Goose’s tentacles wrapped around his body and he was lifted into the air. He couldn’t move and he could barely breathe. He was going to be crushed to death.
Before his vision turned black, Hill caught sight of a flash of light and the next thing he knew he was falling to the ground. The robotic limb that had been holding him had been severed. Goose let out a howl of pain. Hill started coughing, regaining his breath. Trunks threw down his weapon and rushed to his friend’s side.
“Hey, buddy, you alright?” Trunks shook his companion by the shoulder.
Hill sputtered and cast a weary eye on the other man. “…Fine…I’m…fine…” Goose continued to howl.
Trunks looked around bewilderedly. He had seen it too – the flash of white light. He edged towards the fallen limb.
“It’s…paper.” Trunks held up two blank sheets of paper. Hill’s brow furrowed.
Suddenly, Goose let out a roar of fury. Both men looked up in surprise. The remaining five tentacles merged into one singular large appendage. Trunks let out a curse. The monster tentacle coiled back and struck–
The room plunged into freezing darkness. Trunks stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Goose…was literalling turning to ice.
“Now, now, can’t you play nice?”
Trunks and Hill turned in the direction of the voice. Out of the hole in the front of the store stepped a tall blond man dressed in a sharp white suit. He rested a hand on his hip and viewed the scene before him through dark sunglasses.
“Well…fancy meeting you here, Nowhere,” he spoke in a cool voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hill.”
Trunks looked from one man to the other. He then glanced at Goose, immobile and frozen to the spot. Hill frowned.
“Could you have been a second later…?” Hill gruffly asked. The mystery man only smirked.
“I’m sorry we didn’t arrive sooner, Nowhere. I told him to hurry,” a second voice rang. This one was softer; feminine.
Trunks watched as a short woman with dark, waist length hair stepped beside the man. She wore glasses and held a small briefcase in her hands.
“Are you two alright?” she asked, a worried expression on her face.
Hill grunted. “Aside from the being nearly killed part, I’m just peachy. Trunks, you’re alright, right?”
“…..”
“Trunks?”
“…..”
“Oy.”
“Huh? What? Oh yeah, I’m fine.” Trunks nodded his head absent mindedly. What was going on?
As if reading his mind, the man in the suit suddenly spoke. “I’m sure your friend here is wondering what the hell just happened, Hill. Do you want to do the honors or should I be the one?”
Hill got to his feet, wincing in pain. The woman rushed to his side.
“Don’t strain yourself!”
Hill let out a small smile – those were a bit rare from him, Trunks noted – and raised a reassuring hand. “Thanks, it’s not as bad as it looks.” He grimaced.
“Liar.” The woman opened up her briefcase and began to pull out some bandages. Sheets of paper spilled out.
“Nothing gets past you,” Hill chuckled weakly. The woman gave him a reproving look, but then grinned.
Hill let out a heavy sigh. He turned to his friend.
“Trunks…I…”
“I’m November 11,” the blond man interrupted. He pulled out a cigarette from the inside of his jacket. “This is Agent Paper,” he motioned towards the black-haired woman. She gave a small bow. “And he is Nowhere.” Hill’s already sullen face sunk. “We work for MI-6.”
* *
Looking back, Trunks realized it explained how Hill knew about his involvement with the Syndicate. Hard to believe that less than a week ago, he was getting by bumming off his friend; watching movies, helping with the weapons orders, watching movies, cleaning, watching movies… Well, that was all beside the point. He never figured his buddy Hill was a covert operative for jolly ol’ England.
Trunks made a face. He had been surprised, confused, and angry at what had transpired. He didn’t know how to react. Is Hill even his real name? Trunks had known him for the last year or so; was everything he said true? Did he even really like the Godfather? Or was that all a part of the disguise?
And what about those other two? The blond guy seemed to be the leader of the group. He was also a so-called ‘contractor’ with the power to turn any liquid to a block of ice. Or something. Hill didn’t seem to get along with him too well. Hill was always serious and to the point; November 11 was casual and laid-back. They butted heads often. And then there was Miss Yomiko Readman…
Trunks sighed. She was pretty cute, but she seemed to have a thing for Hill. And he appeared to like her too.
He glanced at his watch. 11:51. Barely six minutes had passed. Trunks was starting to feel annoyed. Why the heck was he the one doing reconnaissance anyway?
Somehow, Trunks had been assigned the job of infiltrating this mysterious group…
* *
“What? Why me?”
“Because you’re the least conspicuous one out of all of us,” Hill supplied.
Trunks scoffed. “But you guys are SPIES. Isn’t recon work, like, your JOB?”
“Our orders state we simply cannot make ourselves visible to them,” November 11 said. He kept his eyes on the road in front of him. They were in a small sedan heading out of the city to God knows where. “You’re the most obvious choice. Besides, we kinda saved your ass; it’s the least you can do for us.”
Trunks opened his mouth to say something, but closed it after a second’s thought. He was right.
“I know this must be pretty stressful…” November 11 said after a while. He wore a serious expression. “In exchange for your services, we’ll provide you with a safe place to stay once this is all over.”
Trunks stared at the dark road ahead lost in thought. In the back seat, Yomiko and Hill exchanged looks.
“Don’t worry, Trunks, one of use will always be in contact with you,” Yomiko placed a hand on his shoulder. “And should anything happen, we’ll bail you out.” She gave him a smile.
Trunks raised his eyebrows. He managed to return the smile.
“So…why are you guys investigating these people anyway…?”
November glanced back in the rear-view mirror. Hill nodded. The blond sighed.
“Well, seeing as how you’ve been pulled into this, I guess it shouldn’t hurt… To be frank, our government doesn’t trust the Order.
They may claim to be a neutral party, but they’ve had a history of having a keen interest in world affairs. It’s suspicious to say the least.”
“And they’ve been in Actonia all this time?” Trunks asked.
“Yes,” Hill answered. “From intelligence reports, they seem to have branches in nearly every country in the world.”
“You’re going to do a little covert investigation, that’s all. Find out why they’re really in Actonia, “ November smirked. “Lucky for us they’re accepting new recruits.”
And so, here he was, standing around in the dark in an empty warehouse by the docks. Trunks checked his watch again. 11:52. Gee, was Father Time dragging his ass or what…? The decision was that if he did not make contact within the hour they were going to abort the mission. Secretly, Trunks was hoping he wouldn’t have to play spy.
“Impressive. You’ve actually been waiting here all this time,” a deep voice suddenly broke the silence, making Trunks jump. He looked up.
A tall man wrapped in bandages stepped out of the shadows. Trunks blinked. Is he for real?
“I expected someone with lesser intentions to leave after fifteen minutes,” the man continued. “Looks like you’re serious.”
Trunks narrowed his eyes. Time to play. “I’m very serious about this.”
“Good. Then we won’t have to waste time. Come.”
Trunks followed as the man lead him outside. A beeping in his ear sounded.
“Stage one: Clear,” Hill’s accented voice spoke. “Don’t screw up.”
“I won’t,” Trunks whispered. He kept an eye on the mummy. “Are you sure no one else can hear you?”
“Of course. Codec technology only works between the two on the line. You remember the frequency, right?”
“I remember.”
“Good, then we’ll be in contact with you soon.”
“Hey, Hill,” Trunks spoke in an even more hushed tone.
“What?”
“…Were you just pretending this whole time? Or are you really my friend?”
There was a moment’s silence. Trunks followed the man to a parked car.
“I really haven’t seen Pulp Fiction. And I like the Godfather, so stop ranting to me about my taste in films.”
Trunks grinned.
* *
Leaves danced and twirled, falling silently to the ground. The cool breeze of autumn pushed them along, whistling every so often. Clarice Rowe pressed her forehead against the cool glass of one of the cafe’s front windows, watching the dead leaves. Her headache hadn’t gone away.
She took in a deep breath, the smell of pastries and fresh bread filling her. At first, she had found it to be a distraction, constantly making her hungry. But now she had grown accustomed to the aroma. She couldn’t wait for the holiday months; she could only imagine what sweets Hikki would fill the shop with. Clarice was pulled out of her thoughts by a tap on her arm.
“Um, Miss Clarice?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“I’ve finished the assignment. Do you want to look over it now?” Anne Monroe tilted her head to the side, examining the tired face of her tutor.
Clarice rubbed her temples and gave a small smile to the girl. Even as she reviewed the math problems that Anne had been working on her mind drifted. That idiot.
“Are you okay, Miss Clarice?”
“Huh?” Clarice realized she hadn’t even turned over the page to check the answers on the back. “Oh, I’m sorry, Anne. I just have a lot on my mind.”
Anne bit her lip. “You’re worried about my brother, aren’t you?”
Clarice nearly fell out of her chair.
“What?! No, no, no. NO.”
“…..”
“Okay, okay, I am,” Clarice sighed, her shoulders slumping.
Anne grinned.
“I don’t know what’s happened to him…” Clarice laid her head on the table. For nearly the past two weeks, Samson had shut himself in his room, absorbing himself in work. He would only come out sparingly to eat, use the facilities, and occasionally use the payphone located down the block. And when he did come outside he was usually moody and stand-offish. Clarice couldn’t help but worry.
“Sammie’s weird that way,” Anne rested an elbow on the table. “He’s always liked to work. And when he does, he forgets about everything else.”
Clarice lifted her head. Anne was staring down at the table, running a finger along the tile work.
“Hikki’s worried about him,” Clarice tried to sound as non-chalant as she could. “He’s a little depressed…I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I rather have a Hikki constantly hitting on Sam than a depressed Hikki…” Her voice trailed off.
Anne raised an inquisitive eye at the older woman.
“Hikki’s not the only one sad.”
Again, Clarice swayed threateningly on her seat.
“Actually, I’m worried too,” Anne said softly. Clarice felt a sudden pang of maternal instinct and wrapped an arm around her.
That idiot. Sam, you’re a lousy brother for making your sister cry.
Clarice rubbed Anne’s shoulder and again retreated to her own thoughts. Why was she so worried about him in the first place? Was it only for Hikki and Anne’s sakes? Upon first meeting Samson, she had thought of him as a naive, idealistic young man. He was slightly cute (in a dorky sort of way) but also admirable. His hope was contagious and Clarice soon found herself sharing the same aspirations. To see that vigor slowly turn into bitterness broke her heart.
I thought you’d never change…
Anne rubbed her eyes. Clarice pulled away, allowing the girl to regain her composure. She once again caught herself staring at Anne. She really does look a lot like her brother.
The bell to the front door rang. Both women looked up to see Samson come walking in with the cool autumn breeze at his heels. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trench coat and he wore a grim expression. Clarice noticed that the dark circles under his eyes had become more prominent.
“Sammie…”
Samson turned and looked his sister in the eye. “Anne, get back to your studies.” He turned his gaze to Clarice. “You better not be slacking off either.”
He stomped his way to the back corridor. Clarice shoved off from the table and followed him.
“Samson!”
“What?”
“What is your problem? That’s the first I’ve seen of you all day and you reprimand me on my teaching?”
“I was only reminding you why you’re here,” Samson stated.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” the sarcasm was dripping off every word. “You should be nicer to your sister–“
“That’s none of your business,” Samson cut across her. “Don’t tell me how to treat my own family.”
“Sam…I…that’s not what I…”
“Is that all?”
“Huh?”
“Is there anything else you wanted to say?” Samson stared at her impatiently.
Clarice’s brows furrowed. “Samson…what the hell?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The words reverberated off the walls. “You lock yourself up in your room, you barely talk to us… Hikki is upset, Anne is upset, I’M UPSET! You’re not acting normal!”
“I’m sorry, but the situation we’re in is not normal, Clarice. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re in the middle of a rebellion. People are dying, have died. Excuse me if I’m the only one actually doing anything productive around here.” And with that, he threw open the door to his room, slamming it in Clarice’s face.
Clarice stood there, reeling. The words echoed in her ears. She kicked the door in frustration and turned on her heel.
YOU IDIOT! We’re just worried about you… I’m worried about you. I care about…
She stopped in her tracks. What was she saying to herself? She liked Sam? Of course she did…as a friend. But, did she like him as more than just a friend? Her mind had been plagued with thoughts of Samson over the past two weeks. Is that normal? She cursed him again. He’d been so moody with them all; naturally, she was concerned. But then, why did she light up everytime she saw him? Clarice shook her head. She was stressed out. They all were.
* *
Samson crumpled into his chair. He raised his feet onto the desk. He glanced at his reflection in the small mirror atop the workspace.
“Damn it!” He kicked stacks of paper and books to the floor with his foot.
Two weeks. It had been a full two weeks since Jake Thompson had been sent undercover to investigate Father Sadar’s mysterious organization and he STILL hadn’t heard a single word from him. He had just been standing outside for the past couple of hours waiting near the only working payphone in the district (little did the general populous know that it was one of the Syndicate’s underground communication lines). Samson sneezed.
“Oh great, now I’m gonna catch a cold,” he said bitterly.
Sam reclined in the wooden chair. What the hell was Jake doing? Why had a full fourteen days passed without any contact? Samson scowled. He had been rummaging through these thoughts for the past weeks, all the while, he conducted his own investigations on the mysterious group of glass-cross-wearing hippies. According to witnesses, these strangers had been spotted all over Orly the night in which the Syndicate round-up occurred. Samson ran a hand through his black hair, frowning.
He didn’t trust Father Sadar anymore. How could he? The man turned his back on his supposed ‘friends’ the night in which many of the group’s members were captured and/or killed. It infuriated Samson. He felt betrayed; as if he were tossed aside like one of Angel’s many late night liaisons.
Instead of helping us, he chose to run back to the shadows… Sadar, you bastard. I can’t believe I let him play me for a fool like that!
In a fury, Samson picked up the mirror and chucked it into the wall, watching it burst into a thousand tiny shards of glittering crystals. He was literally shaking with anger. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.
Maybe it was because he had grown close to the man and respected him that Samson was so preoccupied with Sadar’s true identity. Samson didn’t understand why the others weren’t as upset with him. Sadar turned his back on all of them. And to top things off, he could barely get more than a couple of words from Landon. The leader of the Syndicate was always busy doing who-knows-what that it made it near impossible for anyone to sit down and talk with him. Landon just handed out orders and then left everything to his subordinates.
We’re a mess, Samson thought. If Sadar hadn’t walked out on us, we’d probably be doing a hell of a lot better.
Samson was about to throw himself on his bed when he felt the vibration of his mobile phone. He pulled it out. An unknown number.
April? Or was it Angel? Both were scouring (or in Angel’s case, whoring) the streets for information. Samson raised the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“JAKE?!” Sam leapt to his feet. “Where the hell have you been?! I haven’t heard a peep from you for the past two weeks!”
“I know, I know–“
“And why are you calling my cell?! You know we agreed that you’d call the payphone!”
“I know, I know. I couldn’t remember the number, so I speed-dialed you. Anyway, I have free time tonight, we can meet now.”
“Midnight behind the WcDonald’s on Fifth and Park,” Samson said briskly.
“See you then.”
Midnight came. Samson marched down the back street behind the WcDonald’s. He spotted Jake standing underneath the only functioning streetlight, hands in his pockets.
“What happened? Why haven’t you contacted me until now?” Samson glared.
“I’m sorry, Sam. Things got to a rough start the night I went to meet with Sadar’s guys,” Jake hung his head. “I was attacked as soon as I showed up, man.”
“What?! By who?!”
“By a member of the Order of Iron,” Jake answered.
“What? Order of Iron?”
“Yes. Sadar and his people are members of an organization known as the Order of Glass. They’re the ones that wear the glass crosses.
There is another Order. The Order of Iron is made up of former members of the Glass. They apparently broke off from the main group and formed their own organization. At least, that’s how the story goes.”
“What’s the difference between the two? I don’t even know what the deal is with the Glass people…” Samson frowned.
“The Glass is a neutral party. Or, at least, that’s what I was told. They’re ‘peacemakers’. They claim they don’t like to get involved in combat,” Jake explained.
“Give me a break. Then why the hell were Sadar and his people working in the Syndicate with us?”
“Apparently, they were mainly there to ‘observe’. I haven’t discovered what their true purpose is, but this is not the first time they’ve played the role of the third party in a war-torn country. They have branches across the globe, in every major country; they’re very organized.
But, there is a common element to every conflict they’ve been involved with.”
Samson raised an eyebrow.
“Every war the Glass has been involved in always involved the other Order – the Iron.”
“Are you saying these Iron people are here too?”
“Seems that way. But, I haven’t proved it one-hundred percent. I’m still a newbie as far as they’re concerned; they haven’t told me everything.” Jake gave a weak smile. “Hell, most of this I discovered on my own listening in on their conversations.”
Samson rubbed his chin. “So, looks like we have two mysterious groups to keep track of now. Damn that Sadar. What else has he been keeping from us?”
“That’s all I know, man,” Jake replied.
“That’s it? That’s…really not that much considering how long you’ve been out of contact,” Samson said bitterly.
“I was injured. For about the first few days there I was recovering, man,” Jake shifted his weight. “They wouldn’t let me in on any of the meetings until afterwards. And since then I’ve mainly been training. For supposed peacemakers, these people know how to fight pretty damn well.”
“Anything else?” Samson sighed.
“Um…nothing major. They gained a couple new members. One of them went by ‘Trunks’ or something.”
“Trunks? The pub owner?”
“You know him?” Jake looked quizzically at Samson.
“Yeah…the Syndicate set up base at his bar several times. I don’t think he ever really liked us being there though; his place kept getting thrashed all the time.” Samson folded his arms. “Jake, try to get more out of these Glass people. We need to know why they’re really in Actonia and why they’re involved in this rebellion. Be careful around Sadar, especially.”
“Still don’t trust him…?”
“Of course not,” Sam threw Jake a disgusted look. The streetlight flickered for a second. Samson checked his watch. “Get back to the Order. Find out as much as you can and contact me ASAP. Don’t make me wait another fourteen days.”
Jake stared at the ground. “Okay,” he said quietly.
Samson turned on his heel, leaving Jake standing alone in the deserted street.
The following morning Samson woke up after having only gotten four hours worth of sleep. He wanted to grab one of Hikki’s new batch of muffins and get back to work when he heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat. He turned around, a muffin already in his mouth.
“Where did you disappear to last night?” Clarice stood in the frame of the doorway leading to the back rooms, her hands on her hips and wearing a stern face.
“Ah finery et wif ‘ake.”
“Uh, say again?”
Sam took a bite off the muffin and swallowed. “I said, I finally met with Jake.”
“What’d he say?” Clarice tilted her head to one side.
Samson took another bite. “Looks like there are two of these mysterious groups running around out there. The Order of Glass and the Order of Iron. Sadar’s with the Glass.
But, we still don’t know what their objective is. All we know is that they’re here and they’re all secretive and stuff.”
Clarice let her arms drop. “So, we’re back to square one…”
Samson gritted his teeth. They had accomplished little in two weeks. Perhaps sending Jake on the mission wasn’t the best decision. Maybe Samson should have gone in his stead…
“I will find out what Sadar’s up to. I can’t forgive that guy.”
“Don’t you think you’re taking this all a little too personally?” Clarice’s eyes met Samson’s.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you have a vendetta against the guy. You admired him, so, of course, you feel betrayed.
But, you shouldn’t turn this into a crusade against the man.”
Samson’s nostrils flared. He couldn’t believe what she was saying.
“In case you haven’t forgotten, the man walked out on ALL OF US,” his voice was rising with each word. “Our comrades were getting killed left and right. Those lucky enough to survive were captured – including us. You remember that part, right?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “The man did NOTHING to help us.”
Clarice opened her mouth to speak, but Samson pressed on.
“If he’s not on our side, then who’s is he on? The man’s a threat.”
“You don’t even know that. You’re just saying what you want to believe.”
Samson froze.
“Looks like I was right.”
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“No, you’re the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’ve become obsessed, Samson!”
“Just because I’m the only one trying to do anything about it doesn’t make me ‘obsessed’! You certainly aren’t helping. And what about Landon? Oh, that’s right, he’s always so busy he can’t even drop in to say a word or two! The Syndicate has been sitting on it’s butt for too long; it’s time we took an offensive.”
“Listen to yourself! You know perfectly well that Landon’s focused on Ozzal, not hunting down some priest. He has to udokuat things.”
“I wonder about that,” Samson sneered. “What has Landon done as of late? NOTHING. We’ve only seen him once since the regrouping. He just issues orders down to his udoku, and then those orders come to Hikki and the others. Lord knows how much of what we hear is filtered!”
Clarice couldn’t think of what to say. She realized Samson had a point. But that didn’t change her opinion that Samson was making Sadar out to be a nefarious villain when, in reality, nobody knew what he was.
“Yeah…you just keep quiet. You have no right to butt in when you haven’t contributed ANYTHING to the Syndicate. AT ALL.” Samson stalked past Clarice, turned into the hallway, and was promptly met with a slap in the face. He spun around. He expected to see Clarice fuming at the spot, but instead, was shocked to see it was Hikki who had dealt the blow. Hikki was breathing hard, his face scrunched up.
“I DON’T EVAIR WANT TO HEAR YOU SPEAK LIKE ZAT AGAIN!”
Clarice gaped at the two of them.
Hikki recomposed himself. He had been in the kitchen all morning baking and was covered in flour and sugar. There was a white imprint of his hand where he had struck Samson.
“Chu, you’ve gotten vairy moody lately. You don’t speak to us. And when you do, you usually shout at us for our zo-called-eencompetence,” Hikki huffed his way into the front of the cafe. “You’ve changed. And I don’t like eet one beet.”
Samson stared wide-eyed, still in shock.
“Everyone een ze Syndicate plays an eemportant role, not just you. Eef you evair speak to Clarice like zat again, I weel pairsonally make sure you regret eet for ze rest of your life,” Hikki turned, glaring daggers at Sam. “Now, eef you two would kindly go grab ze new batch of sneecker-doodels I made and set zem on ze countair here, we can go on weez our day. Zees ees udok a cafe; save ze angsting for latair.”
“Yes, I’d like to have one of those snicker-doodles myself, if you’ll please hurry…”
Everyone’s head turned towards the door. The customer who had just walked in was none other than the Flame Alchemist himself, Roy Mustang. He pulled a white glove onto his right hand and stretched his fingers.
“Hello again, monsieur Follet. I want you to tell me everything this time.”
* *
“Emiri?”
“Oui.”
“And you’re sure this girl’s the one who killed Heero?”
“We’re almost poseeteev eet was hair doing.”
“I see,” Mustang sat back in his chair. Hikki had finally resigned to telling Mustang the truth behind Heero and Riza’s deaths after having the cafe threatened to be turned into matchsticks. It was probably the most uncomfortable conversation the Frenchman had ever had, filled with awkward punctuations of silence. For his part, Roy had maintained a stoic front; though Hikki was certain he saw flickers of emotion in the man’s eyes.
“What do we do next, Colonel?” Havoc put out his cigarette in the ash tray.
“Where is this Emiri?” Mustang leaned forward.
“Zat ees a good question,” Hikki shrugged.
“Well, lucky for her. When I find her, she’s dead.”
As if on cue, the front door bell rang and a loud voice echoed in the building.
“FINALLY! Do you have any idea how long it took us to get here? We got side-tracked there for a couple of chapters!”
“Emiri!”
“Huh, what?”
“Fourth wall!” Izuru Kira hissed.
“Oh, crap! Uh, ignore that.”
A deadly silence filled the room. All eyes were on the pair. Emiri blinked.
“Yo!” She waved a hand at the group before her. Again, silence.
“Ooookaaay… Kira, what’s their problem?” she whispered to her udokua.
Kira brushed a blond strand from his eyes. “I think they may be a little surprised that Ozzal’s ex-assassin suddenly showed up on their doorstep.”
Emiri pouted.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Samson jumped to his feet, breaking the silence.
“Oh, hey!” Emiri beamed, recognizing Sam. “We’re here to join the Syndicate, of course!”
“WHAT?!” Sam, Hikki, Clarice, Mustang, and Havoc shrieked in unison.
“You guys are seriously lacking a kickass babe in your roster, so I thought, ‘what the hell?’” Emiri flashed another grin.
Hikki stared blankly at the girl. He glanced over at Clarice who look just as stunned. He turned towards Sam when, for the second time, the front of the cafe exploded.
Fire burst through the room in a flash. Brick and glass rained down on the outside street. A dark cloud of smoke billowed in the autumn wind. Emiri coughed, Kira placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Ugh…yeah…” Emiri checked all her limbs. “Still intact.”
“Pity, I missed.” Mustang walked through the new hole in the building; sparks emitting from his gloved right hand.
“Good try, Colonel,” Havoc slapped Roy on the back.
“And who the hell are you?” Emiri dusted off the dirt and debris stuck to her clothes.
“The man who’s going to kill you!” Mustang snapped his fingers once more. Fire snaked its way to the young woman, but Kira blocked the embers with a sweep of his Zanpakuto. Mustang’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Colonel.” Kira sheathed his sword. “You’ll have to go through me first if you wish to kill this girl.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Wait, wait. Sir, let me handle this,” Havoc blocked Mustang’s line of fire. He unshouldered the rifle he was carrying. “I haven’t been in the action as of late; I think it’s time I get my requisite fight scene.”
Mustang eyed his udokuate then Kira. “Alright. I’ll leave him to you.”
Havoc smiled.
“Well, what do you say, pretty boy? Ready to get your ass kicked?”
“I’d like to see you try,” Kira entered into a stance.
“You better not lose, betch,” Emiri mocked. Kira gave her a ghost of a smile. “As for you,” she turned her attention to the alchemist, “I don’t know what your problem is. I really don’t want to have to fight ya, but if you won’t even listen to–“
Mustang snapped his fingers. An explosion of fire knocked Emiri off her feet and she was tossed into a lamp post.
“Emiri!” Kira yelled.
Emiri regained her footing. The lamp post was bent in half from where she struck it. “That’s pretty rude. You should let people finish what they’re saying before you attack.”
“I don’t show etiquette for murderers.” Mustang snapped his fingers once more. Emiri somersaulted into the air, barely avoiding the blast. She landed on the roof of the building Mustang had hit instead.
“Tch,” Emiri scowled. From her new vantage point she scanned the area. She’d have to lead the man away to a place where he could cause less damage. She leapt to the neighboring roof. Mustang ran after her.
Leaping from roof to roof, Emiri felt the heat of flames at her back. Good, she thought, working so far. She jumped and rolled onto a two story building when the roof gave way beneath her. She fell through plaster and wood and landed with a thud on concrete. She spat up blood.
Emiri glanced up at the hole she had just fallen through. She was on the first floor. She slowly stood up. Save for the light from the hole, the room was dark, she saw specks of dust floating before her.
“Well, this makes things easier for me. DIE!”
The entire room suddenly burst into flame. Mustang had set the building ablaze. Emiri barely had time to make sense of what happened. She ran out of the quarters, down a hallway, and dived through a window. Again, she scrambled to her feet. A crowd of people had gathered around her. She was near the park she had seen. A scream from the throng caught her attention; she looked back to see the edifice collapse.
“Talk about close…”
“But no cigar!” A fireball flew at Emiri. Her eyes widened in surprise. Bodies scrambled as smoke filled the air.
Mustang strained through the dark clouds. Did I get her?
“You missed.” Emiri coughed. Mustang had hit a large tree instead.
The girl then charged at the alchemist, unsheathing her chainblade. Mustang dodged as the blade struck ground.
“Why the hell are you trying to kill me?! Who do you think I am!”
“You’re a murderer. I’m merely providing justice.”
“What? Did I kill your grandmother or something?!”
“Try ex-fiancee,” Mustang growled.
Emiri stopped in her tracks. Ex-fiancee? She frowned, trying to recall who.
“Riza Hawkeye. Name ring a bell?” Mustang asked ferociously.
Her?
“I didn’t kill her!”
“Oh yes, you did. You may not have swung your sword, but your sadistic murdering of her husband led to her death.”
Emiri’s stomach dropped. Memories of a married team of snipers and disembowled cavities engulfed her. Them…
“You remember now?” Mustang sneered. He raised his hand. “Let that be the last thing you recall before your death!”
Emiri couldn’t move. She was going to die. She was going to burn to death and that would be the end. Well, at least she would go out fighting. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a small figure. NO!
The explosion rocked the ground. Mustang stared into the flames. The girl couldn’t have survived.
“You bastard!”
Roy took a step back in disbelief. “It can’t be…”
Emiri held a small girl in her arms, surrounding them was a blinding shield of light. The fire died down and disappeared.
Emiri had saved a child that was left behind by the crowd that had fled earlier.
“Kill me all you want, just don’t put any innocent kids in the crossfire!”
To be continued…
Cast of Characters (In order of appearance):
Jean Havoc (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Roy Mustang (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Emiri - _Boxers_
John Sadar/Furion – FurionTassadar
Izuru Kira (Bleach)
Landon Blaken – Blah_canbespanish
Gauron (Full Metal Panic!)
Greed (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Tres Iqus (Trinity Blood)
future!Cille (or Cille of the future!) – Cille
Trunks – Trunks378
Hill/Nowhere – fool_on_the_hill
Goose Maverick – Top_Gun
November 11 (Darker than BLACK)
Yomiko Readman/Agent Paper (Read or Die)
Schwartzwald (Big O)
Clarice Rowe – QueenoftheDorks
Anne Monroe (as herself)
Samson Monroe – MasterSamson
Jake Thompson – SportsMaster
Hikki Follet – Kohikki
Also mentioned in this chapter are Shou Tucker (Fullmetal Alchemist) and Ritsuko Akagi (Neon Genesis Evangelion).
Author’s Notes:
- “If not for the six massive robotic tentacles bursting from the crotch of his pants, one could have mistaken him for some fragged up businessman…Bloody Eye was a popular hobby of the wealthy in Orly.” This is a reference to the drug used by Asimov in the first episode of Cowboy Bebop, “Asteroid Blues”.
- The character of November 11 is from the BONES anime series, Darker than BLACK. In the series, he really is a member of the Secret Intelligent Service (MI-6) and a contractor. His ability is to freeze any liquid, the remuneration being he has to smoke (which he hates). He defeats Goose Maverick by freezing the water from the emergency sprinklers that were set off in the weapons store.
- Yomiko Readman (from Read or Die) is able to use paper as a weapon in the anime. This is how she severs one of Goose’s tentacles.
- Hill’s alias “Nowhere” comes from the Beatles song “Nowhere Man” from their 1965 LP, Rubber Soul.
- The “Codec technology” Hill and Trunks use to communicate is the same from the Metal Gear Solid videogame series.
- The WcDonald’s Samson and Jake meet behind is the same fast food chain from InuYasha.
- Emiri was able to save herself and the child from Roy’s fireball by using Kido (the form of magic in Bleach). However, that shield spell is the only Kido she knows.
- The chapter’s title ( “Fixing a Hole” ) comes from the Beatles song of the same name, featured on the famous 1967 album, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Obvious references to Fullmetal Alchemist and End of Evangelion in the scene with Landon.