To hell with it. Let's push boundaries.
--
The door latched behind him, sealing away the world outside. Safely home. Another day over.
No more looking over the shoulder.
No more panicking at every stranger who followed him around a corner.
No more sparking in his body at every loud noise.
No more wondering if that woman staring at him from across the street was the one….
Thank Christ. He leant back against cool steel, soaking the tension from his body. His boots found their home beside the wooden step. The familiar scents of home embraced him whole. Cedar wood, fresh miso and…
Lavender?
Hs body chilled. His hand went to his hip, fingers silently working the clasp to a heavy holster.
“Tanaka.”
A voice. A woman. Somewhere to his right. Pop! The button came free. Fingers grasped the grip of the Berretta.
“It was just a matter of time, I suppose….”
His voice pulled taught, despite his best efforts.
“I want to know who. And why.”
To his left. His head snapped. Shit! Thermoptics. It had to be.
“You work for….” He snarled.
“Nobody,” A figure loomed, coalescing out of the light into something solid, right in front of him standing in the living room door. His hand snatched at the pistol, pulling it on target. Finger on trigger. Dead to rights.
The impact knocked the breath clean out of his lungs, chased by the rushe. A blade, iridescent under the hallway lights. Razor sharp, cold against his neck. Solid steell pinned him to the wall, crushing his chest. Turbines spooled down, enegy tingling across his skin.
The pistol thumped to the ground, unfired. His awareness came into focus.
Cold steel. Glacier eyes. Bloody hair. Gunpowder moondust. Lavender perfume. Unstoppable force.
A strange relief in recognition. Not her. Not them. Until he realised why she’d come.
“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t even have noticed,” she assured with calm certainty.
Those eyes bored.
“So what do you want?”
The pressure eased. His bare feet found soft tatami as she stepped back, giving him room to breath. Both blades relaxed, still gleaming to a fine point.
“You’re going to tell me who. And why.”
His fingers brushed at his neck, checking. No blood. Inhumanely quick. Machine precise. Sweat prickled. “And if I don’t?”
The pistol sat on the floor, far too far out of reach. He looked to her.
“I walk away,” she said, matter-of-factly. Her eyes went to the gun, then back to him. She’d notice.
The hair on his neck prickled. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”
Her arms folded. “I’m a killer, but I amn’t a murderer,” she breathed. The word accused. “The people who told you to shoot my brother down on the other hand. Can you imagine trying to convince them you didn’t talk if I just leave you be?”
She smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
“Can I at least sit down?”
Before he collapsed.
“Your apartment,”
She stepped aside, letting him pass. He never even heard the footstep on the tatami.
He took a moment to soak himself in soft vinyl, closing his eyes. The television slept. An old turntable waited for the new Bebop soundtrack still in its cellophane. A simple wooden bookshelf carried a few dozen books. Already, he wished he’d gotten around to reading more than he did. A Bonzai remained un-pruned. One of the tatami mats had torn at the corner. Outside, the city bustled past, four stories below.
The cyber stood in the door, one shoulder leant against the creaking frame, unconcerned about any attempt he might make at escape. Anything he might try would be beyond futile. The thought occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, it might all be an act – being so relaxed and self-assured to hide a true weakness. It seemed ridiculous.
He looked at her, then down at his own clasped hands. No such luck and he knew it.
“Alright. Look. I didn’t shoot. Denon did. And they chipped her for it.”
“Chipped her?”
She stepped into the room. His hands gripped.
“We were told to bring him in alive, but make it look like an accident. We thought it was just a mission. Some Boskone agent we had to bring in without them realising we had him…”
“What…” she breathed, blindsided. “Boskone?”
A small victory. She really didn’t know who he worked for.
“Yeah. They burned me.” He shot her a rueful grin, skin turning pale. “Said it was reserve activation for a special mission since we were both anti-spacecraft experts. Everything looked official. All the right stamps. I thought you were here to tie up the remaining loose end.” The laughter escaped, harsh and cynical. “Can you believe? During the war, all I wanted was peace. And then I jumped at the chance to go the war again. How fucked up is that?”
He swore he saw sympathy in her eyes.
“I wanted a new mission, and for my sins they gave me this one.”
They shared a smile. Faint joy from a shared misery. A moment’s understanding. No hatred. No intent. Just a fucked up situation. It could’ve happened to you.
Her posture relaxed, becoming more human, more natural. She wouldn’t kill him. In another place, maybe they might’ve shared a drink.
He calmed himself with another breath. His shaking hands betrayed him. She wouldn’t kill him.
“Look, you’re a warrior. I get that. But let me tell you right now. Whoever you’re dealing with, they’ve a mole in SHIELD capable of pulling something like this off. You can fight someone in front of you. But you can’t fight someone capable of turning the most respected law enforcement agency in Fenspace against you with a finger-click. You want to face the Scarlet Angel?”
Maybe, he thought, he could talk his way out. She listened. She thought. She smirked.
“She knows my capabilities, intimately. My records. My training. Even what I normally eat for breakfast.” Amusement lit up behind her eyes. “But I know how to make klaatchian coffee liqueur cheesecake.”
“Hah!” It barked back off the wooden panelling on the walls.
“Trust me. She isn’t something I need to worry about. She works with SHIELD, I don’t.”
He caught it immediately.
“So that’s how it is?”
“You can think whatever you want,” she shrugged her shoulders. He wondered how the suit managed it. “But I’m going to find who wanted my brother, and I’m going to find out why. I just need to know who gave the order.”
That glacier gaze made it a cold certainty.
“I might be a fool, but not an idiot. I kept it all on a memory card, just in case.”On the phone, she called herself ‘Green Grass’.”
She tossed the phone to her. One steel hand silently caught it. The other worked the card free. Her eyes never even left him.
“And Denon?”
His whole body shuddered. That scream. The look in her eyes. Betrayed by her own body, silently begging it to stop, but compelled nonetheless.
His teeth clenched. “Sent me a video file, showing what happened to her. Told me to be quiet if I didn’t want a chip of my own. I’ve been waiting on the other shoe to drop, ever since.”
It struck him cold. It struck both of them.
“I came on my own. Nobody knows I’m here.”
It might not. He knew the game too well to believe that.
“I understand. I guess.” He tried to sound nonchalant, to put up the brave face. It came out sick, twisted, a bad imitation at best and a blatant tell at worse. “The least I can do is give you the best chance.”
His eyes went to the pistol again. She caught his intent, immediately.
“It’s not your fault.”
Her voice clipped through it.
“But it’s my duty.” He swallowed it, dead set. Better that, than Denon. He looked to her, meeting her gaze. “It can only end one way. For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”
“Thank you,” she nodded. Her lips firmed up. “…And me too.”
His eyes fell to the floor. She wouldn’t try stop him.
A sick relief.
“Try and get me out, and they know you’re coming. Kill me yourself, and they know you’re coming. But another veteran suicide? Nobody ever notices them these days.” His whole body shook against it, begging him not to, even as he tried to convince himself by rounding it out loud. “Just promise me you’ll tell ‘em I wasn’t a traitor.”
Tears on his cheeks betrayed him. Funny that. Try to be stoic. To stand up. He forced himself to stare. His lip quivered. Force of will stiffened.
“I will. I promise.”
“Thanks,” his voice stretched out.
Nothing more needed to be said. She left him wordlessly, as silently as she’d entered. He wondered if she’d even been there, or been a figment of his conscience.
The pistol still waited on the floor. It waited another hour until after the record he bought finished playing.
See you space cowboy.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
--
The door latched behind him, sealing away the world outside. Safely home. Another day over.
No more looking over the shoulder.
No more panicking at every stranger who followed him around a corner.
No more sparking in his body at every loud noise.
No more wondering if that woman staring at him from across the street was the one….
Thank Christ. He leant back against cool steel, soaking the tension from his body. His boots found their home beside the wooden step. The familiar scents of home embraced him whole. Cedar wood, fresh miso and…
Lavender?
Hs body chilled. His hand went to his hip, fingers silently working the clasp to a heavy holster.
“Tanaka.”
A voice. A woman. Somewhere to his right. Pop! The button came free. Fingers grasped the grip of the Berretta.
“It was just a matter of time, I suppose….”
His voice pulled taught, despite his best efforts.
“I want to know who. And why.”
To his left. His head snapped. Shit! Thermoptics. It had to be.
“You work for….” He snarled.
“Nobody,” A figure loomed, coalescing out of the light into something solid, right in front of him standing in the living room door. His hand snatched at the pistol, pulling it on target. Finger on trigger. Dead to rights.
The impact knocked the breath clean out of his lungs, chased by the rushe. A blade, iridescent under the hallway lights. Razor sharp, cold against his neck. Solid steell pinned him to the wall, crushing his chest. Turbines spooled down, enegy tingling across his skin.
The pistol thumped to the ground, unfired. His awareness came into focus.
Cold steel. Glacier eyes. Bloody hair. Gunpowder moondust. Lavender perfume. Unstoppable force.
A strange relief in recognition. Not her. Not them. Until he realised why she’d come.
“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t even have noticed,” she assured with calm certainty.
Those eyes bored.
“So what do you want?”
The pressure eased. His bare feet found soft tatami as she stepped back, giving him room to breath. Both blades relaxed, still gleaming to a fine point.
“You’re going to tell me who. And why.”
His fingers brushed at his neck, checking. No blood. Inhumanely quick. Machine precise. Sweat prickled. “And if I don’t?”
The pistol sat on the floor, far too far out of reach. He looked to her.
“I walk away,” she said, matter-of-factly. Her eyes went to the gun, then back to him. She’d notice.
The hair on his neck prickled. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”
Her arms folded. “I’m a killer, but I amn’t a murderer,” she breathed. The word accused. “The people who told you to shoot my brother down on the other hand. Can you imagine trying to convince them you didn’t talk if I just leave you be?”
She smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
“Can I at least sit down?”
Before he collapsed.
“Your apartment,”
She stepped aside, letting him pass. He never even heard the footstep on the tatami.
He took a moment to soak himself in soft vinyl, closing his eyes. The television slept. An old turntable waited for the new Bebop soundtrack still in its cellophane. A simple wooden bookshelf carried a few dozen books. Already, he wished he’d gotten around to reading more than he did. A Bonzai remained un-pruned. One of the tatami mats had torn at the corner. Outside, the city bustled past, four stories below.
The cyber stood in the door, one shoulder leant against the creaking frame, unconcerned about any attempt he might make at escape. Anything he might try would be beyond futile. The thought occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, it might all be an act – being so relaxed and self-assured to hide a true weakness. It seemed ridiculous.
He looked at her, then down at his own clasped hands. No such luck and he knew it.
“Alright. Look. I didn’t shoot. Denon did. And they chipped her for it.”
“Chipped her?”
She stepped into the room. His hands gripped.
“We were told to bring him in alive, but make it look like an accident. We thought it was just a mission. Some Boskone agent we had to bring in without them realising we had him…”
“What…” she breathed, blindsided. “Boskone?”
A small victory. She really didn’t know who he worked for.
“Yeah. They burned me.” He shot her a rueful grin, skin turning pale. “Said it was reserve activation for a special mission since we were both anti-spacecraft experts. Everything looked official. All the right stamps. I thought you were here to tie up the remaining loose end.” The laughter escaped, harsh and cynical. “Can you believe? During the war, all I wanted was peace. And then I jumped at the chance to go the war again. How fucked up is that?”
He swore he saw sympathy in her eyes.
“I wanted a new mission, and for my sins they gave me this one.”
They shared a smile. Faint joy from a shared misery. A moment’s understanding. No hatred. No intent. Just a fucked up situation. It could’ve happened to you.
Her posture relaxed, becoming more human, more natural. She wouldn’t kill him. In another place, maybe they might’ve shared a drink.
He calmed himself with another breath. His shaking hands betrayed him. She wouldn’t kill him.
“Look, you’re a warrior. I get that. But let me tell you right now. Whoever you’re dealing with, they’ve a mole in SHIELD capable of pulling something like this off. You can fight someone in front of you. But you can’t fight someone capable of turning the most respected law enforcement agency in Fenspace against you with a finger-click. You want to face the Scarlet Angel?”
Maybe, he thought, he could talk his way out. She listened. She thought. She smirked.
“She knows my capabilities, intimately. My records. My training. Even what I normally eat for breakfast.” Amusement lit up behind her eyes. “But I know how to make klaatchian coffee liqueur cheesecake.”
“Hah!” It barked back off the wooden panelling on the walls.
“Trust me. She isn’t something I need to worry about. She works with SHIELD, I don’t.”
He caught it immediately.
“So that’s how it is?”
“You can think whatever you want,” she shrugged her shoulders. He wondered how the suit managed it. “But I’m going to find who wanted my brother, and I’m going to find out why. I just need to know who gave the order.”
That glacier gaze made it a cold certainty.
“I might be a fool, but not an idiot. I kept it all on a memory card, just in case.”On the phone, she called herself ‘Green Grass’.”
She tossed the phone to her. One steel hand silently caught it. The other worked the card free. Her eyes never even left him.
“And Denon?”
His whole body shuddered. That scream. The look in her eyes. Betrayed by her own body, silently begging it to stop, but compelled nonetheless.
His teeth clenched. “Sent me a video file, showing what happened to her. Told me to be quiet if I didn’t want a chip of my own. I’ve been waiting on the other shoe to drop, ever since.”
It struck him cold. It struck both of them.
“I came on my own. Nobody knows I’m here.”
It might not. He knew the game too well to believe that.
“I understand. I guess.” He tried to sound nonchalant, to put up the brave face. It came out sick, twisted, a bad imitation at best and a blatant tell at worse. “The least I can do is give you the best chance.”
His eyes went to the pistol again. She caught his intent, immediately.
“It’s not your fault.”
Her voice clipped through it.
“But it’s my duty.” He swallowed it, dead set. Better that, than Denon. He looked to her, meeting her gaze. “It can only end one way. For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”
“Thank you,” she nodded. Her lips firmed up. “…And me too.”
His eyes fell to the floor. She wouldn’t try stop him.
A sick relief.
“Try and get me out, and they know you’re coming. Kill me yourself, and they know you’re coming. But another veteran suicide? Nobody ever notices them these days.” His whole body shook against it, begging him not to, even as he tried to convince himself by rounding it out loud. “Just promise me you’ll tell ‘em I wasn’t a traitor.”
Tears on his cheeks betrayed him. Funny that. Try to be stoic. To stand up. He forced himself to stare. His lip quivered. Force of will stiffened.
“I will. I promise.”
“Thanks,” his voice stretched out.
Nothing more needed to be said. She left him wordlessly, as silently as she’d entered. He wondered if she’d even been there, or been a figment of his conscience.
The pistol still waited on the floor. It waited another hour until after the record he bought finished playing.
See you space cowboy.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?