Chapter 41-
A grey sky hung over the Hilltop Medical Academy; there were a handful of paintings of the impressive building. Noire had seen these before, and thought that he had a good idea of the place, but now realized that they lacked something integral; the sound of the ocean’s waves, the blustering winds, the smell of sea salt. As he strode up its marble steps (still practicing walking in a more “masculine” fashion) he thought, maybe, that art was just a pale imitation of life.
“Or, perhaps, the best art doesn’t pretend to be real life, the real life is hidden behind it…”
He snapped out of his headspace and refocused on his objective. Once again, he wore the face of Taylor Holmes, New Hopeland’s ambassador to Andeidra. He realized after two nights with the mud mask on that it became pretty hot and uncomfortable, especially for someone like him, who tried to keep his pores clear. Loki N Roll proved to be a versatile ability, however, and Advent was able to remove it and place it back on himself.
Noire’s impersonation had become even more critical by an unfortunate turn of events. Eroh’s torture had damaged the actual Taylor Holmes’ face beyond recognition, and it could no longer be used as a reference point. The images they had on hand, while exhaustive, might have been missing some small detail, some slight slope of his facial structure, that a longtime acquaintance might notice immediately. Noire was the closest match to Holmes’ build and height, and thus the only member of the team who could pull it off.
“Hello, how can I help you?”
The bubbly young woman at the front office perked up at him from her desk. Noire produced an ID from the pocket of the suit he wore so cheerlessly.
“Taylor Holmes, New Hopeland ambassador, just paying a visit to your lovely institution,” he looked about at the towering arches of the main hall, in part to sell his admiration, and in part out of honest admiration.
“Yikes!” she rapped her knuckles on the desk. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to see? We’d love to accommodate you!”
Noire laid his hand near hers and cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.
“Well, I wanted to know if-- maybe-- it was possible to see Professor Blackwell?”
She blushed.
---
Angelique welcomed the ambassador into his study graciously, first offering to show him around the Academy.
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you,” Noire had picked up on the way that politicians spoke from some books he’d read while the Fang Team was in hibernation. More weight was always placed on anything that came after the ‘but’ in a sentence, so it was a good move to structure the positive statements at the end; it made him sound more charismatic.
“Are you sure?” Angelique wore a face of disappointment, but tried to hide it to avoid making a visiting politician feel guilty. “Have you seen any of our public areas yet?”
“Public? No,” Noire replied. “I have to be at a meeting by noon.”
“That’s too bad,” Angelique lamented.
“But--” There it was again. “I was hoping you could tell me a little about what you’re doing here.”
“Well, I suppose I could give you a quick rundown of what we’re working on in each of our wings…”
Angelique went on for some time about the various goings on of the Academy. It was founded primarily on medical science, but that field had grown to touch and encompass many different fields of study: Biology, Chemistry, even Botany.
Noire sat and listened patiently to his explanation, formulating his next approach.
“Sorry if this is off-topic,” he began as Angelique finished. “But you were a researcher on that case in Cradle some years ago?”
Angelique sat up.
“I was, you were curious?”
“Well, I just figured that you maybe had some background in toxicology?”
“I’m fairly familiar with it,” he leaned to the side in his chair, the spark of excitement not gone. “The Andeidra-Demeena War used some primitive chemical weapons, not in any large capacity though.” He chuckled, “I mostly treated our own officers who mishandled them on-site.”
Noire laughed honestly, then caught himself.
“You can’t enjoy his company,” he was reminded by the killer in him. “He’s a potential target for assassination.”
“I only ask because there was a recent case in the city that was remarkably similar to what happened in Cradle.”
Angelique’s eyebrows shot up for an instant as he processed his words.
“Did the papers release the coroner’s report already?” There was a tinge of annoyance in his voice.
“It was in the police blotter yesterday,” he informed him. “I overheard some folks buzzing about how much it reminded them of the Cradle case, really big fans of yours, I suppose.”
In truth, the whole Fang Team knew that Eroh was the one behind the murders in Cradle, and they knew immediately upon hearing the news of the most recent death that it had been him as well. Now, he just needed to find out if Angelique had put the pieces together.
The professor nested his chin in his hand and looked to the side.
“It is distressing,” he began. “I don’t want to say anything for sure as of yet, if just to keep the public at ease.”
Noire sat back.
“The New Hopeland Crown and the Andeidran government are both very concerned about the possibilities of a terrorist attack, what with the President making a public appearance soon.”
Angelique sighed and closed his eyes.
“I know what you’re going to say,” he spoke for the ambassador. “I’ve already been contacted by Gideon Jepta-- he’s an old friend of mine, actually-- and I’ve been working with him to investigate possible terrorist actions.”
“Ah, you’re a step ahead of me,” Noire goaded him forward. “Go on.”
“How much are you familiar with?”
“I have no idea, really,” Noire had to play it carefully now. “I’ve attended as many briefings as someone with my security clearance, I’ll be attending the President’s speech as a guest, you know.”
“So you’re familiar with the main suspects right now?” Angelique paused and looked around the room, despite knowing there was no way anyone could be listening in. “The Fang Team?”
Noire’s heart was lit aflame.
“Now… Just how much does he know…?”
“Do you have any leads on the Fang Team?”
“I already suspect that the death from the other day was a murder, and I can confirm with practical certainty that the incident in Hilltop was a chemical attack from the same source.” His face became grim. “Whoever the Fang Team are, they have capabilities that I’m still struggling to grasp.”
He got to his feet and strode to the window, staring outward pensively.
“I can’t tell you what more I’ve found, but if it’s necessary, you will be informed.”
Noire stood up as well.
“How deep do you think it goes?”
“I can’t say, although I’m fairly certain that they’re operating outside of the government, so we should be safe for now.”
“How naive, Professor Blackwell.”
With everything he needed to know, Noire politely excused himself and left the Academy. He wasn’t the type to grin, but a small flame of satisfaction burned inside of him.
---
Isaiah threw a newspaper on the table. The headline read, in large bolded print: “PRESIDENT CARTWRIGHT TO ADDRESS POISON DEATHS.”
Gideon read the title to himself and sighed; a knot formed in Angelique’s stomach. After the death of a wealthy investor, three more were reported and linked together by the press. It didn’t take long for the talk of the town to become dominated by rumors of a suspected chemical attack.
“What do you think of this?”
Gideon just took a bite of his breakfast sausage and shrugged. The diner was a welcome kind of noisy this morning, not so much that you couldn’t hold a conversation, but just enough to do so with relative privacy.
“You don’t think that’s a big deal for what our job is?”
“Not really?”
Isaiah looked baffled.
“Look,” Gideon wiped his mouth with his napkin. “This is an impromptu thing, it’s in-- what? Two days? If they’re really planning something as big as--” he cut off his sentence, deciding it was better to say it with his eyebrows. “--Then this is something that’s been planned meticulously for those very specific conditions. You can’t just graft a plan like that into a brand new time and place in the span of a few days.
Besides,” he took another bite. “That’s gonna be the perfect time to do our in-the-field investigation.”
“In-the-field?”
Gideon looked at Angelique, as if he was expecting something. The professor awkwardly looked down at his iced tea.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Hey, I believe you,” Gideon said in a very serious tone of voice. “I’ve seen some crazy stuff, and right now, what you have to say is the best lead we have; there’s just too many strange things connected to it.”
Angelique chuckled.
“Too many strange things not to believe? Sounds about right.” He looked back up and began to explain himself.
“Well, this… ability seemed to… manifest in the elevator while speaking to the man in the cloak. I’ve run it through several trials and-- to my knowledge-- this is the best that I can explain it. It seems that if I’m speaking to someone, and I get them to entertain an idea to an extreme that they get ahead of me, I can begin to-- this is where it sounds silly-- read their memories, for lack of a better term.”
He wrung his hands while he spoke, evidently aware of how strange he sounded.
“I have no idea what this ability could be, if not one of those Vocations you spoke of, but for the time being, I’ve chosen to call it ‘[Chemicals].’”
“Why ‘Chemicals’?” Isaiah wondered aloud.
“I figure it works off of some innate flaw in brain chemistry, maybe a psychological trick that leaves you vulnerable to manipulation.”
“You seemed pretty confident when we walked away from them that you knew what you saw,” Isaiah reminded him. “Are you just nervous that we won’t believe you?”
“Yeah,” Angelique laughed at himself and took another deep breath.
“And what did you see in the elevator?” Gideon pressed, trusting fully that his friend was not losing his mind.
“Well, among some other images I didn’t quite understand, I know that I saw a warehouse, and there were words linked with it as well, like they were leaves on a branch.”
“Words?”
“Yeah, ‘hideout’ was the main one, that was the most damning piece of evidence to me.”
Gideon was now intently focused on what Angelique was telling them.
“Do you know how recent this memory and that word were? Do you know where it is? Did the memory say anything about other people?”
“Slow down, jeez!” Angelique put his hands up like he was stopping a car. “First of all, I could tell that it was a pretty recent memory, if not current, because it was near the top of the tree. Next to the warehouse, from what I can recall, was an empty lot with a red sign out front that read something like ‘Jonathon’s’ or something along those lines.”
Gideon couldn’t help a grin from spreading across his face.
“That’s excellent. Anything else?”
Angelique shook his head.
“That was all I could grasp from what I remember. It was a pretty overwhelming experience, all things considered.”
“Well,” Gideon took the last bite out of his sausage. “I think we have everything we need for some in-the-field investigation.”
“When are we heading out, then?” Isaiah asked with only a hint of dread. The waitress popped in to hand Gideon the check.
“Day after tomorrow,” he replied, signing the paper and handing it back to the waitress. “I’m going to see a play tomorrow, so I’ll try and call you afterwards to let you know the finer details.”
When the waitress was gone he checked to make sure she was out of earshot before leaning in.
“You brought a gun, right?”
Isaiah laughed, as if offended.
“You make it sound like I’d only bring one!”
---
Sweat dripped from Myst’s forehead as he completed his twentieth pullup. He found that exercise helped him concentrate and clear his mind, as a kind of “active meditation.” It certainly allowed him to focus on Noire’s explanation with a much sharper mind. The rest of the team was present as well, oriented around Mello.
As he finished the details of his undercover mission, Myst completed the last of his pullups and took a breather. Gruse kept a book to her face, but tilted it downwards ever-so-slightly to take a glance at his shirtless physique. Eroh, leaned against a wall with his arm crossed, wondered whether or not Myst enjoyed the gaze of Gruse or Mello more.
“Tch…”
He looked away to hide his one-sided grin.
Mello stared at the floor, concentrating on his next words.
“It would not surprise me if Angelique Blackwell has already devised a plan with Gideon Jepta to find our location. Until then…” He raised his eyes suddenly, drawing their already rapt attention closer.
“We need to devise a defense strategy.”
Gruse’s voice was soft.
“Mello…”
Before she could offer any suggestion, the sound of flapping wings burst through an open window which sat twenty feet from the ground.
“The bird?”
It landed on Mello’s arm, the black bird with its one peculiar gold feather. It squawked four times.
Mello’s eyes widened. The room was silent.
“Four times?” Noire’s breath was weak, he could barely bring himself to say it.
Mello sighed deeply and cast his gaze to the group.
“Complete and total failure.”
Advent, sitting on the ground, was the first to say anything.
“So… Fars, Dion… and Susarion…?”
“All of them were unsuccessful in their missions to kill the target.” Mello’s grave tone was troubling, deeply troubling. His fist clenched, shaking, before relaxing abruptly; he regained his composure.
“The first thing we need to do is restructure our assassination plan. We can’t rely on Fars’ Panic Switch or Dion’s Cities of Ash to control the area anymore.” He looked to Noire.
“Noire, you’re our key to getting Myst into the optimal location to make the shot; your ability is also the most widely destructive.”
Again, he turned.
“Gruse, you’re still on the ground to deal with security and police. Advent--” the pale-faced young man looked up excitedly. “Your role is still crucial.”
Advent felt immense gratification.
“Eroh, you were the closest to the main target, correct?”
Eroh stepped off from his place on the wall.
“I never saw his Vocation, but he would have gone down pretty quickly if I wasn’t interrupted.”
“We have one more member in the advance guard, he’ll be waiting for them when they pass through the mountain range before entering the city. It will be close, but we don’t have any other options. If he fails as well,” Mello swallowed. “Your task is now the second most important.” His stare, with his piercing red eyes, made one feel as if he could stop your heart on command. “You must monitor for Ajax Clarke, known as Gallow, and kill him-- without hesitation-- if you find him.”
“Oh,” Eroh leered. “Can do.”
“I don’t like to repeat myself too often,” Mello continued. “But I cannot stress enough the importance of our mission here. Peace has come down on our world for far too long. People like us cannot allow that, people like us are driven forward, Peace only breeds stagnation; Life is movement, contentedness is weakness. You must understand, as I hope I’ve made myself clear, that Peace is an evil thing. No one who lives a truly Peaceful existence will ever surpass the Present.”
Not a muscle moved as he spoke, even from Eroh.
“The President of Andeidra will be killed, it will be orchestrated by actors from within the New Hopeland government, and the greatest war of our modern era will commence. These are the things my Oracle in New Hopeland has promised, and I trust his words. This bird is his representative, a sign of his goodwill. His words trouble me, however, when he speaks of Gallow. Everywhere that man goes, the fates of others, their paths, seem to be undone. Certainly someone as powerful as Warren Roseraid would have been able to kill him without issue, but something has happened, something is different, and I cannot tell what it is as of yet.”
He stood up and watched the bird fly away into the rafters.
“Eroh, I want you to kill him before I solve this mystery, because it will be synonymous with my own undoing.”
The Fang Team was awestruck by his words. For Mello to even consider his own death as a possibility seemed like heresy, but they knew it to be true. Because he lived in the tomorrow that had yet to exist, he already lived with his death, indeed he had been killed before he was even dead and gone.
“Resolve yourselves,” his final words before departing back to solitude. “We all need to be brave. I know that in his last moments, Fars was brave.”
Something small broke in each of their hearts.