poly_chromatic | text / action - northern section of Xanadu Gardens

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darker than black - pai

text / action - northern section of Xanadu Gardens

[ action ]
[Pai is bowled over by a sudden, aching sense of loss. The Gate is gone. How can the Gate be gone? She's the only one with the power to destroy it. And yet --

A moment passes and she finally registers surroundings (a testament to her disorientation; she's never once been shocked enough to lose sight of her surroundings until now). Wherever this place is, it isn't South America. Which means the odds are good that it isn't the Gate that's gone; it's her.

Who what when where and why are all questions she wants answered, but first and foremost, she needs to establish whether her team is here. She reaches into her pocket for her radio, but finds a network device instead.

Curiouser and curiouser.]

[ text ]
Twice I've gone to the garden, but not once have I found a spring starflower.

[If anyone from her unit is here, they'll recognize the code for her call sign BK-201.]

I think I'll give up and look for moss. I've got two hours to kill.

[After typing out that message, she heads towards the northern part of Xanadu to secure a location and wait for two hours.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He's spent the days since Pai's exit with something wedged in his throat -- cold and shiruken-shaped and ready to slice. But it hasn't fed any sharp pain. Just a terrible, chronic dull ache. At work, he's felt immensely tired, sunk down into himself, the daily This and That slipstreaming through him without touching him. Seeing the message on the Network device, something like curiosity stirs. No matter what his mood, what his state-of-mind, reconnaissance is an automatic habit. ]

[ He presses a listless finger to the keypad, to say hello to the newcomer as 'Li'. ]

[ And freezes. ]

[ 201. ]

[ The second time this month that he's seen that callsign. As the digits twirl in his slowly draining head, he tries to make sense of them. Is it really Pai?? His fingers feel like cement blocks as they trip over the keypad. In fairness to reality, he's typing with as much efficient speed as possible, but to Hei, stars are born and explode and become red dwarfs over the course of the Compose and Send. ]

Look on the west side. You'll find the star-flowers next to the black dahlia.

[ He'll be waiting there, well-concealed. Ready to see who this newcomer is. ]

[Pai gets the message when she's just selected a spot in the northern section. Hei. She's relieved that at least he is here. She quickly diverts her steps to the western side. Unlike Hei, it doesn't occur to her that it might be a trap. Beyond standard precautions, she just trusts.

Her steps do get more careful as she reaches the west section and begins to look around for him.]

[ Standard precautions? Even compared to the soldier he was in Heaven's War, Hei's repertoire has been fine-tuned to a blade's edge. It was a natural progression over the years. A ritual sacrifice of one's peace-of-mind, to keep tactical failures at bay. He arrives at Xanadu when the sky is starting to pinken. He's taken the precaution to add extra padding to 'Li's disguise. A baseball cap, wireless glasses, and a baggy jogging suit. He reconnoiters the area on foot, his posture, gait, and presence maximally unobtrusive. He checks the spots he would use to watch for quarries and stage an ambush. ]

[ At a bench, obscured by festive sprigs of orchids, he waits. ]

[ Eventually, at the tread of footsteps, he glances up. What he sees makes him feel like he's floating in a disembodied limbo, not unlike that ugly vortex that'd snatched him away in the Gate. That time, it was Yin's voice that had called him back. But here -- ]

... Pai?

[ A tingle speeds through him, leaving him watery-legged and dumb. A few ticks go by before he remembers to breathe. He's on his feet in a blink, his body alert for threats, but his mind pulped under an avalanche of shock and trepidation and wild hope. ]

[Pai smiles at him, although her gaze is immediately wary. She doesn't understand the expression on his face -- that mixture of emotions makes no sense. Even as paranoid and possessive as he is, they haven't been apart for long. But he looks as though he's seen a ghost.]

Brother.

[She reaches out for his hand, her palms tingling with electricity. If whatever is wrong here turns out to be a threat, she won't hesitate to use her power to kill him.]

[ The Scene, Multus Ne Multus: ]

[ 1) This is Pai. He doesn't want to believe it. Not because he doesn't want her here. But because when has he ever gotten anything he wanted? Clearly there was some evil attendant at Hei's birth, that fixed an invisible mark on him. No Good Things Ever. A flaming brand the whole cosmos can see. He wants to believe this Pai is just some puppet. A construct. Pai visiting him for a weekend? That's fine. Pai in the City, as trapped as he is? Impossible. ]

[ He holds hard to his conviction. But the conviction, as she smiles at him, all undefended, is already slipping. In the pink evening light, she's so distinct: delicate and calm and familiar, as after every battle. The very Pai-ness of her blooms out in the garden's still air. An ache starts behind his temples, and with it, a sense of surrealism boiling in from the margins. ]

[ 2) This is Pai -- and she doesn't remember her last visit. It's clear in her wary gaze, in the crackle of sparks dripping from her fingertips. Hei's skin leaps at the touch. Not a cheapening metaphor but the logical result of charged electrons. He ignores it, his palm clasping hers, fingers knotting tight. ]

[ 3) He needs to calm down. Needs to explain everything to her. The most obvious step is to usher them somewhere quieter. To urge her not to advertise her ability so freely -- this isn't the battlefield, this is civilian territory. To make the City's bizarre environment plain and comprehensible to her -- as much as he can. ]

[ He'll do all that. He will. But for now he swings her in, not without warning but not gingerly either, a hug so tight that her feet skim the grass. ]

[This is definitely her brother. Only he could pull her in so, his grip both gentle and numbingly painful. She lets the electric charge fade and wraps her arms around him. Whatever the explanation is, whatever strangeness has happened, she'll find out soon enough. Her priority right now is comforting Hei.

There's only so much her spine can take, after all. The sooner he's soothed, the sooner he'll loosen up and she can breathe again.]

[ Hei squeezes her hard. It is Pai. Stuck in the City, same as he is, by some inexplicable force. Never a life he'd wish for her. But while she's here, he can't bring himself to complain. It's selfish, yes. But self-interest is a skill he'd honed long before becoming a Contractor. Whatever kept him alive -- and able to protect Pai. Without her to guard, to care for, Hei is directionless. A dead man walking. ]

[ Bit by bit, the barb of ice lodged in his throat melts from fist-sized to the mass of a grape -- bearable and breatheable. He takes a deep breath of her, holding it for a moment as his thoughts tick over, then pulls her in even tighter. He needs a grace-period to absorb the moment, let it swallow up his rationalizations like the spectral blue glow of an aquarium swallows the sunlight, leaving wavy rainbows behind. Just a moment before he'll have to complicate everything with speech, about herself, or him. ]

[ Eventually, he loosens his grip. Enough to set her neatly on her feet, to draw back and appraise her -- that familiar laser-vision inspection he'd always give her when they'd split up for separate assignments in-field. Even if it was just a week, a soldier could crumble irreparably in that time, gnawed inside-out by vector-borne diseases, clammy and wasted with dengue, eyes blood-red from contaminated rations, skin mottled by cuts and bruises from shrapnel and knife-wounds. In this case, she's no worse for the wear. The last battle she was in was easy -- or at least sparing in its damage. ]

You must have questions. [ It comes out quiet and factual, his mind defaulting to speedy pragmatism, even as its reeling from shock. ] Come with me.

[ There are a number of secluded places they can talk. Peaceful, neutral territory to put himself at ease, as much as Pai. ]

[She lets out a relieved breath when he lets go -- his hugs have gotten stronger. At his familiar appraisal, she smiles. It's a trained response; smiling reassures him, so she smiles.]

Where are we going?

[She doesn't have quite as many questions as he might think -- she did take some time while walking to browse through the network, giving her a general sense of this place.]

[ Hei doesn't imagine she's just dropped out of the sky. Watch and absorb is a mantra that resonates in every Contractor's mind. And Pai has always been uncannily observant. (They all were, in Amber's team -- one of the reasons why they'd been such a terrifying force. No hesitation, no room for errors -- just perfect ruthlessness.) ]

[ Her smile doesn't exactly reassure him. But that's not her fault. It owes only to his shock. The split, between incredulity and practicality, between anxiety and delight, keeps flashing in his head like bolt-lightening, making everything feel uncanny and strange from one moment to the next. At the question, he squeezes her hand, gripped in his, before letting go. ] Just somewhere to sit. [ He has questions of his own. More questions, he suspects, than she might have for him. But they're largely personal and brotherly in nature. What's the last thing you remember? -- Are you sleepy? -- Are you hungry? to that old nursery-rhyme cadence. ]

[ Under the sweeping branches of a cottonwood tree, he lets himself settle with Pai on the damp grass, and squints up at the sky. A purple-blue that foreshadows the gathering night, the coolness of the spent day. He sits still a moment, breathing in and out under the watery light, and finally turns to Pai. ]

How much about the City have you understood so far?

[She settles next to him, leaning against his side in that way she does, that makes people think they're lovers, not siblings.]

We're in a city, cut off from reality as we know it. There's an organization called Anonymous which has recently taken over, and they are attempting to deal with a problem with the Clock. A man named James Kirk is trying to organize people to figure out a way to leave.

[She looks at his face from the corner of her eye, noting all the changes.]

It's cut off from time as we know it too. [This is pure conjecture, but the brother that's right here is not the brother she just left. A temporal difference is the only explanation she can think of.]

[ It's so familiar, sitting with her this way. They'd done it often enough on lookout points in Heaven's War. Bowing his head against her hair, he breathes her in -- an affectionate gesture that's at odds with how sharp his eyes are, or the black eel of tension coiled in his spine. Keeping watch on their surroundings, absorbing her words, debating on how to carry forward. (There's a brief spark of pride -- illogical but ever-present -- at her ease in grasping the City's framework. But where Contractor's are concerned, Pai was always a clever one.) ]

[ Sensing her scrutiny, hearing the unspoken question in her words, he nods confirmation. ]

It is. [ Quieter, ] It's been five years since I've seen you. Heaven's War is over. The Syndicate's plans -- your decision to destroy the Saturn Ring -- I've learnt about that, too.

[ He doesn't tell her, that despite the sacrifice -- the massacre -- in South America, the Syndicate stayed undeterred. Or that they'd tried (failed) to carry through their plans again, in Tokyo. There's no need to. Not yet. ]

[She looks at him sharply. He knows -- now she needs to determine how he feels. It's complicated now; she hadn't expected to be around to deal with the aftermath of her choice.]

How long have you been here?

[She doesn't ask about the future. It has no effect on her here. If it worked, it worked. If it didn't work, there's nothing she can do about it.]

[ Dredging up that entire situation -- half a continent wiped out, secrets kept from him, teammates lost to out-of-control abilities like seppuku gone wrong -- is like digging up a purulent corpse from its grave in Hei's mind. The very mention of it clouds his head with the stench of resentment and resignation and grief. ]

[ Best to let it rest for now. ]

[ She doesn't ask about the future. And he isn't surprised. His sister is a Contractor, and they are creatures of expediency. Things change, different priorities form. But regrets? Backpedaling? Not in the manual. They live in the present-tense. (Hei has tried to be the same. To an extent, he's succeeded. But if he imagines he'll forget everything for even a red second, he'd be an even bigger fool than advertised. ]

A year. [ There's a moment's pause, before he adds, ] Two of my teammates from Tokyo are here too. [ It's implicit that he wouldn't mention them, unless they were reliable. With Pai here, he needs, more than ever, to tighten any loose security perimeters. To be the watchful bodyguard (the loving brother) he'd tried and failed to be in Heaven's War. ]

[ Granted, this isn't the battlefield. But the City comes with its own brand of trouble. ]

[Teammates from Tokyo...]

What are they like?

[That they're reliable may be implicit, but different people -- even Contractors -- react differently to each other. It's like chemicals. You can know how a chemical will behave in one situation, but mix it with another and it's something else entirely.]

[ Hei hesitates to say how well his team had interacted with each other. It wasn't perfect. At least not in the beginning. There were no shortages of sparks and flares. No dearth of solutions blowing up in everyone's face. Huang would gripe that it was primarily Hei's fault. He'd been the unstable element. The wild card. But that wasn't true. They'd all been unstable in their own ways -- cracked and jittery from the tremors of past catastrophe. Maybe that was what allowed them to depend on each other. To trust, in an environment where the word was like cancer in the mouth. ]

[ His fingers dig absently into the grass. Springy blades poking his palm, dirt under his fingernails. With Pai at his side, the humidity and the chirruping insects everywhere, it's easy to close his eyes and be transported back to South America. ]

[ He keeps his eyes open. He wants to imagine his sister in an environment that isn't juxtaposed with violence and decomposing corpses. Here, maybe he'll get the chance. ]

One Contractor. Mao. He's a body-jumper stuck in a black cat. [ Unlucky, he doesn't say. Why bother, when the jokes just make themselves. ] One Doll. Yin. Her medium for reconnaissance is water. [ He doesn't add anything further, which in itself is telling. Yin's always been more than a Doll or a Teammate for him. ]

[A body jumper and a Doll. A mixture heavy on intel and light on actual firepower. Hei's power -- her power -- might be worth three Contractors, but... well, Pai is used to battlefields where brute force meets brute force. Intel was good but not nearly as important as the ability to slaughter. She recognizes that urban environments, civilian environments, are different, but it still skews her perception.]

Who do you work for? [A quick network search wouldn't (and didn't) reveal the criminal understructures that always support a city like this. Her question isn't just about who he works for, but who the important organizations are. What is the pattern of life here.]

[ Different doesn't begin to describe it. War is the basis by which Hei approaches everything else in his life. But his counterpart in Heaven's War relied on brute force and dirty tactics. His current self functions on a more sophisticated paradox: lit-kerosene recklessness and ice-cold calculation in equal measure. He's learnt to rely on a number of facets -- skill, strategy, weak points, recon. Where his sister is a total blinding force, Hei has learnt to be smoke and shadow. He doesn't blame Pai for the relative innocence of that question. She assumes, as a Contractor, he'd affiliate himself with a powerful organization. It's the most practical choice. She doesn't realize the only service Hei prefers to be in, anymore, is his own. ]

Ostensibly? My cover is a chef in a cafe. [ A shift of weight, so he can face Pai more fully. ] There are a number of organizations here. City Solutions. Artemis. But they bear no relation to what we do [ what we did ] for a living. They're dedicated mainly to making life in the City comfortable. Or finding a way out. [ On a practical note, ] The economy here is a joke. No real system of government. No code of law. There's a loose marshal enforcement. But it's run by humans. With a few supernatural 'helpers.'

[ A dip in his voice, both thoughtful and cautionary, ] I've witnessed a number of traditionally 'illegal' violent crimes take place. With no reaction from the police force. By that theory, this place should be in chaos. It's a perfect arena for criminal organizations. But few have established a permanent foothold. [ He exhales, glancing past her for a moment. ] Narcotics markets. Prostitution rings. Those are open and conducted mostly in an area known as the Underground. There's no one kingpin. Just small factions clashing with each other.

[ More quietly, ] There's another thing you should know. No one dies here. If they do, they're brought back to life within 24 hours. [ Which leaves the wetwork trade largely otiose. ]

[She notes that he mentions a cover, but never actually specifies what he's covering. He lists organizations, but doesn't mention whether he works for any of them. Is he trying to hide something from her?]

So what do you do?

[The note about the lack of death here is interesting, but not immediately pertinent. At the moment, she's more interested in what her brother's life is here.

If he has actually managed to find a peaceful existence here....she'll be pleased.]

[ Hei's eyes slip shut. On a heavy exhalation, he leans in, circling an arm around Pai. His head drops, cheek pressing to the top of her skull. Her hair is warm and slippery against his skin, and his voice is quiet when he says, ]

Aside from cooking in the cafe? And a few odd jobs Underground? Nothing.

[ His tone is dubious, as if he's fallen into a trap. As if it isn't peace he's experienced in the bargain, but an infection of complacency corroding his skills inside-out, letting him sink into the illusion of something familiar and routine. ] It's habit that has me maintaining an alias here. There are a number of supernatural beings. Even some with abilities like ours. But if an enemy from home ever arrives -- it's a risk I can't take. [ Back home, he could solve the issue with a clean kill. When a loose end is burned that's all there is to it. But not here. For all that 'Li' can be an irksome burden, he also allows Hei to play fly-on-the-wall. His persona is a curious mix of freedom and fetters. ]

[ (That, and it's easier to slip into a second skin, especially when you're still uncomfortable in your own.) ]

So you're just a cook. [He may sound dubious, but Pai smiles, and butts her shoulder against his.] That's wonderful. [No Syndicate controlling him. Nobody making him kill even though it makes him miserable. He's finally free of the life her Contractor powers trapped him into. (Not that he seems to appreciate it. Stupid brother.)]

[ (Stupid brother indeed.) ]

[ He hears that gently chiding note in her voice. Wonders, how he can explain. That the war -- his profession -- have left him hollowed-out, his only means of negotiating the world reduced to alternating detachment and violence. People who haven't had that kind of experience -- civilians -- they don't understand. It's like they live in two dimensions and he lives in three. Each lull is just that. A lull. It's only when he's back on the frontline -- neck-deep in action -- does that fitfully drowsing part of him stir to wakefulness, while his surface persona melts away like a dream. ]

[ He can't say that. The disfiguration to his psyche -- that's his problem. A uniquely human one. He doesn't want it to negate her sacrifice. He's grateful for everything she did for him. ]

[ But more than that, he's grateful she's here. ]

Not just any cook. [ Almost dryly, ] A pastry chef.

[ Years of killing people with electric-shocks and blades. Now he's killing them with calories. ]

A pastry chef? [The surprise in her voice sounds like it presages gales of laughter, though of course none comes. Laughter is a hard thing for her to feign, and with Hei, there's no point. He can likely sense her amusement anyway.]

So you make alfajores and brigadeiros?

And Angel Chins and Pudim de Laranja.

[ He exhales a breath that sounds both self-deprecating and wry. He won't admit how much he's enjoying this. The almost-smiles. The light banter. It'd be so easy to get used to it. It's a detail that makes him want to be cautious -- as if the slightest misstep or blatant show of happiness will snatch her away again.) ]

I can also make twelve different types of cappuccinos.

Angel Chins! [She nudges him.] You'll make some for me, won't you?

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