Bis rose, p.17
Bis Rose, page 17
She checked the time. Crap! After one in the morning already. Hours on site at Seichi Estate, bouncing theories while headless bodies were carted out; hours more in Accounts, transferring and verifying her expenses and what was owed both ways—including additional footnotes to some receipts which the stony-faced accountants needed more information on, or that needed downloading from the merchant, or hadn’t even arrived in her inbox yet. Then even more hours at the HQ agents’ bullpen, writing up her final report, all the while nursing a growing headache over how to word her document ambiguously, tended to tap into a day. Fiction-writing had never been her strong suit.
Her belly had rumbled for some time, and now it positively screeched in hunger. Her thoughts went back to the delicious fried chicken Jun had gotten, making it rumble even more. She lifted her head to scan the room; only a few remained so late in the night and, like her, were filing lengthy reports. One agent was actually dozing in front of his terminal. The lighting, dimmed to conserve the energy cells when not needed, gave the large room a gloomy, abandoned classroom vibe. In the distance, in the glass-walled boardroom, the director and a handful of senior agents and analysts sat around a table with multiple holo-charts and reports suspended above the table. Evidence of a takeaway dinner sat before them, with a pile-up of beverage mugs and glass tubes of water. An all-nighter. Agent Shale sat among them, scowling at something while her fingers tapped out an irritable rhythm.
Bis wasn’t needed in the meeting. As far as anyone was concerned, her assignment had ended, even though they wanted her expertise as a retrieval agent. If they required assistance, they’d let her know with a simple brief on what was required, much like what had happened when Jun’s case dropped on her lap. She also had no desire to know what they were discussing. As much as she hated the half lies and subterfuge, she couldn’t do anything which might jeopardise the entire hot mess of a situation without having to explain everything else. Sometimes it was better to let things lie until the right moment. Right now, that moment was hoping Jun was still alive, and would contact her.
Collecting her meagre belongings—her coat, draped across the chair, and her weapons—she made ready to leave HQ. Food first, or home to sleep? The docking port was too far to travel just to hunker down for the night aboard the Obeah Woman. But the bed was much wider and comfier than her bed-sit’s. Her stomach growled.
Okay. Hint taken. Food first. Her stomach howled in response; she rubbed to console it. Soon.
Since it was closer, she would go home for a bit, grab a takeaway and catch up on sleep. On her way out, she slowed and waved to Shale to let her know she done for the night. She didn’t need to, but Shale still had a decade of seniority and, enforcer or not, respect was due. Shale’s head tipped in a miniscule nod, then gave Bis a quick thumbs-up.
Into the elevator, Bis punched in the street level, then slumped against the wall and shut her eyes. Even her eyelids seemed creaky and gritty. Her joints rusty and achy, back tight, shoulders stiff from being hunched over the desk. Oh, to just slide down and go to sleep. These extended assignments and hopscotching through space and time zones, and the agonising long hours, were taking their toll. Not to mention the tedious admin side of it all. She was getting too old for this shit, and was in half a mind to just turn her back and close the door. Jun Hiro could go screw himself. The syndicate families could keep on killing each other off until none were left. Problem solved, end of story.
But when the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, she groaned with angst and sucked in a breath. She would finish the job, somehow, some way. Shucking out the elevator, she stomped through the main doors. A drunk could’ve walked a straighter line, and probably ached less.
The street offered up the familiar assault of coppery scents from the expended energy cells after a day of endless traffic, mingled with the remnants of greasy aromas that leached into the ground and surrounding buildings from the many mobile food stalls—now closed and gone for the day. Lilac trees lined the street at GAJA headquarters, a monstrous building that gobbled up an entire block. The cloying sweet scent tickled Bis’ nose. She glanced up at the purple blooms, spotlighted by multiple street lights, and took in the stunning spectacle. At some point between taking on the Hiro assignment and now, she’d missed the blooming season. By the looks of it, the short season was coming to an end. She’d missed many lilac seasons. In mid-smile, a sneeze caught her by surprise. That’s why. The smell always blocked her sinuses. Hastening her steps, she walked on.
The bed-sit wasn’t too far. Bis turned right to head out of Commerce Lane towards the long Larissa Avenue, which stretched for kilometres in a north-south line. Leaving the business sector behind, foot and vehicular traffic increased, including small shops, most of which were still open in the lively metropolitan city of Galatea. The bed-sit complex was a mere kilometre away, tucked one minor street back on Naiad Lane and overlooking the city dam and waterway. It didn’t matter anyway; she barely had a view from the single window—only a slice of the street and her favourite noodle shop.
Thinking of the noodle shop and the accompanying savoury broth, accented by the bite of fresh chives and radishes, the slices of pork or beef, Bis hastened her steps. Eggs. She’d ask for two instead of one, to bump up her protein. Maybe she’d order two bowls to-go, or maybe some tempura on the side. No. Pork katsu! Katsu was the closest thing to that glorious deep-fried chicken she’d eaten and—
Something grabbed her from behind, hauling her by the coat collar and yanking her sideways into a darkened alley.
Bis braced for a one-legged landing. She twisted with the flow of the pull, dropped onto her right leg and pivoted, right elbow bent and ready to smash into whatever had yanked her from reality. Thrusting her arm up, it connected to something hard that made an uufff grunt. Lowering her centre of gravity, she bent forwards, twisting towards her attacker while shucking out of her coat. Free of it, she tangled her assailant—a slender man—in it. His arms flailed in an attempt to remove the coat. Unrelenting, Bis pushed with her shoulder, propelling him backwards. Then she drove a roundhouse kick to his legs. He arrg’d and toppled into a heap of upturned limbs, the coat bunched over his head.
“Stop!” the man hollered, voice muffled under the fabric. “Oww! Stop!”
Bis shifted, ready to launch another kick with her other leg. Instead, stalling, she hopped on the spot like a boxer. Ready. But that voice…
She kicked away a portion of her coat, exposing the top of the man’s platinum head, which he clutched with both hands. “Rasshole!” Her body slackened, mouth dropping open. “For real?” Putting her fists to her hips, she let out a long, squeaky steups.
Boku’s pained face emerged. “Don’t hit me again. That hurts.”
“Of course! It was supposed to hurt! You were trying to jump me. And what the rass are you doing here?” Bis flailed an arm. “I looked for you, ratling. I waited. I fucking called you. And look at you here. Ever heard of keeping in touch? Letting me know you weren’t legs cocked-up and dead like a roach?” She steupsed again. “Irresponsible young people,” she grumbled.
“It was too dangerous. I couldn’t find the right moment…”
“Get up off the ground, you idiot,” she hissed.
Turning away and staring upwards, she sucked in a deep breath and let it out with a lengthy groan. At least the boy was alive. The boy was alive! Ratling survives like a roach. Her headache seemed to be easing as well. She gave herself another moment. When she next looked down, Jun was on his feet, rubbing the leg she’d kicked. He wore the sort of black hooded onesie many of the trendy entertainers liked to wear.
“Gimme my coat.” She snatched it from his grasp. “How did you find me? In fact, follow me—this way.” She jerked her thumb deeper into the alleyway. “We need to talk.”
Heading to the noodle shop was out of the question. Too many knew her there, even at this hour, and no way was she taking Jun anywhere he could be recognised. Disguised or not. There was a back way into the bed-sit via the waste disposal depot shared by the other three complexes in the cluster.
“I played dead and slipped away. Helena doesn’t care about me. I’m just a faceless hired help—one of many. She only cares about her revenge for what happened on Ao. Didn’t care who she grabbed when we bugged out, only that Toshi was there.”
“Yeah,” Bis snapped, stomping down the dark alleyway. “About that. What the hell happened there?” She jerked her attention to him; he had the decency to hunch and appear ashamed. “And what’s with these disguises? I thought you only had that one? Brixton Isogai! Don’t think I didn’t catch on.”
Jun grinned—a now-familiar sight even with the Boku persona. His bouncy gait had returned as well. Either she hadn’t kicked him hard enough, or the young had faster healing powers these days. “I never said I only had one. Just one I’m really good with. I’ve got loads more.”
“Next time, give me a heads-up.”
“Aww. It’s sweet how much you care about me.”
“Shut up!”
*
The narrow bed-sit offered the same charm as always. Stark, sterile, empty. The stale air made the room muggy. That, and the unique—and truly offensive—sweet banana-scent from the industrial cleaning products the building service bots used, clung to the air. She’d programmed the annoying cleaning bot to service the room once every four weeks, and from the smell of things, that had been a couple of days ago. No doubt the little trip-inducing piece of machinery was tucked away in its receptacle, benignly leaching more disgusting cleaning products into its innards to dispense with abandon in a few weeks. One day, she would speak with the building manager and ask if, by some small chance, they would change the scent to something more pleasing.
“You live here?” Jun’s jaw dropped as his eyebrows rose.
“I live on my ship. I only sleep here when it’s convenient.” Bis nudged him aside, and in four quick steps was at the other end of the room, punching in a security code to crank open the narrow metal-louvred window. A thin waft of air filtered in. At least it was cooler, being up on the seventeenth floor. “Sit. Stool’s right there. Can’t miss it. Don’t trip over it.”
The narrow room boasted a pull-out bed which, when flipped over, converted to a table. A single stool sat a little to the right of the room; another hung on the other wall by a peg—foldable to take up less space. The same wall offered a narrow ledge that served as the kitchen counter, boasting a covered single-burner cooker and an oval bowl for a sink—half exposed for kitchen needs, the other half sticking into the small bathroom. Under the ledge, a square fridge no bigger than a generous lunch box. Cabinet space was along the wall separating the bathroom from the rest of the room, and consisted of nothing more than a cupboard with two shelves. Inside, a single deep skillet, a small kettle, a beverage glass, a bowl and utensils for one.
The partitioned bathroom had a toilet—literally a seat sticking out from the wall. The shower was a depressed half-metre-square tiled area next to the other half of the sink, and a shower hose attached to the sink’s faucet. There had been a time when it boasted a shower curtain, but Bis had found it too claustrophobic, so she’d ripped it off. It took some crafty skills not to wet the entire room when using the shower—the showerhead needed cleaning too, and couldn’t keep a straight water line to save itself.
“I can see why you live on your ship.” Jun tucked his arms under his armpits and stood still. He seemed reluctant to move, or sit on the offered stool.
“Well, excuse me. Sorry it isn’t like your fancy room on Ao. What’s with the freaky toys, by the way?”
“Freaky?” Jun gasped. “They’re collectables. Superheroes and all their sidekicks. And my great-great-great-great-greaaaaat-grandfather’s Pokémon collection. They’re antiques, and worth a fortune!”
“Whatever.”
Bis pressed the wall to release the bed. The narrow cot dropped down slowly, gobbling up most of the one and a half metre width of the room. Down, it almost touched the tiny fridge. The cushioned mattress, firm and unrelenting, wafted a recently steam-cleaned scent. She sat on it and reached up to remove a cushion-like pillow that hung on the wall like a decoration. Propping it against her back, she leaned into it. “Ahhh.” She wriggled to get comfortable. “Now. Start talking. From the beginning. Be quick, because I’m very, very hungry.”
Jun sort of shuffled in a pirouette and, with hands still tucked under his pits, stuck out his backside, aiming towards the stool, and slowly eased down. It made a tiny creaking noise as the canvas seat sank. He cringed, freezing.
“It won’t break.” Bis rolled her eyes. “My mother would never have given me furniture that doesn’t last. Those stools belonged to her once, and have been everywhere and back. Just rasshole sit. And relax.” He reminded her of a very mindful, polite gentleman who’d had manners and etiquette beaten into him from early. Whatever cheeky, cocky, posturing air-head he came off as, at the core, Jun Hiro was a decent and respectful young man. Being stuck in a spaceship and living together was one thing; being in someone’s private space—their home—an entirely different matter.
Jun settled into the chair, but didn’t look very relaxed. Perched as if ready to take flight, he took a breath, lowered his arms, and clamped them between his knees. “Okay. From the beginning.” He nodded.
“And hurry, too. You’ve got like ten minutes max before my hangry mood gets worse.” She snorted. “And take off Boku. Lemme see the real you.”
“Okay, okay.” Jun complied, and the familiar face reappeared. After a few swipes with his hands to smooth his moppy hair, he resumed his last posture and continued. “So, I get there, home. I used the service entrance, but I knew something was wrong. I mean, the security guy at the gate was pretty dead—and for a while too. He was getting a bit juicy. Anyway, I run inside, find Helena and Toshi packing up the bug-out gear. The swords too. I ask what happened. They said they were heading here and levelling it.” Jun shrugged. “I didn’t understand. But Toshi explained. He was still freaked, and he was bandaged around his arms and belly. Helena had some bruises on her face, which is amazing because I thought no one could touch her. Anyway, weird things had been happening for a few days. And one by one, the team were found dead and hidden—like the security guy—”
“The ones in the freezer.”
“Oh. They were?” Jun jerked a shoulder, and there was a small, sad tilt to his eyebrows. “Anyway, that’s when Toshi thought it was a ghost. He couldn’t find the source, you know? He was trying to call me, so everyone outside was inside.”
Bis nodded. Everything seemed to have played out like how she imagined. Whoever it was had spied on them, watched their movements before acting. Then messed with their heads.
“Then, a couple days ago, someone comes in and starts swinging. Helena got hit first. She was in the orchid room doing her thing and listening to music, and this person comes swinging at her. She had barely enough time to scramble. They ended up outside, and Toshi came to help. Between the two of them, they unmasked the person. That’s when they freaked. Toshi swears the person looked like me. Me-me. Because he was so surprised, the attacker caught him with a sword. Helena nearly got killed too, which is like, wow! Anyway, more of the team come to help. Toshi’s still freaking because he knows Jun wouldn’t do such a thing. I wouldn’t do something like that. But it spooked him. Maybe spooked Helena as well. Shock-factor, you know? But they didn’t really get a long look at the assassin, only that he was skilled, and fast, like a ninja, and looked a lot like me. That’s why they thought it was me, because I am fast and swift. Anyway,” Jun jiggled his legs as if eager to hop up and start pacing like he usually did, but one step would have him face-first into the entrance door.
“Anyway?” Bis prompted.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Anyway. I saw what happened there. I said to Toshi we had to help, you know, clean up. Cover them up. I mean, they were our friends, and poor old man, Hara-san, dead at my bedroom door. He’s like my uncle and bodyguard…was my bodyguard. More like a shadow, you know. I’ve known him forever. Anyway. But Helena didn’t care. She seemed, I don’t know…shattered. Distracted. She said House Hiro is gone, maybe because she thought I was the one destroying it. She swore I’d turned sides. It was up to her, well, us to stop our enemies, whether we live or die. It was the honourable thing to do. What the fuck, right?”
Bis quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll say. Then what?”
“Well. That’s it. I helped them pack up. The others, most left to blend in with the general population a few days before shit hit the fan. Helena gave the order—it was mostly staff, anyway, and they have families and stuff. Eventually, they’ll leave in stages when the coast is clear, you know. But like I said, a lot of them have family, so they’ll probably stay. Then I said to them, you know, like in a by-the-way sort of way, if they heard how Jun had killed himself? How it was all over the socials? So it couldn’t have been Jun doing the attacking, because he was dead. They kind of were shocked, but it’s hard to tell with Helena. She sort of went colder. Deader, you know? I think maybe she figured someone was posing as me. Like, using a mask or a disguise. And she seemed more focused afterwards, like she knew who was responsible for hitting the house. But Toshi was a little sad. Toshi treats Jun like a son, you know?”
“You mean you?”
“Yeah. Me.”
Bis sat up. “Wait. Did you go as Boku or Brixton?”
“Brixton. It was safer that way, in case I was asked where I’d been. I was going to tell them I was out running errands for the cook or something, and couldn’t get back in. They didn’t care. Brixton isn’t someone people pay attention to. They tell him to jump, go fetch, go away, shut up, forget shit. You know what I mean?”
