Jadeite was not in a good mood. This was understandable, considering he had just lost what should have been a sure victory, as far as he was concerned. Worse, as far as he could tell he hadn't even managed to inflict any casualties on his opponents, aside from knocking a couple unconscious. Even worse still, most of the other generals and commanders were almost certainly either dead or ‘purified’ so that they wouldn't be available as fighting forces anymore.
But worst of all, as far as Jadeite was concerned, was that he would have to report this failure back to Claudius. Back with Beryl, the failures themselves had never hurt so much as the rebukes afterward. Of course, Claudius seemed to be a much more stable individual than Beryl was, so he probably wouldn't be tortured too badly for messing this up as badly as he had.
That didn't mean that Jadeite wasn't going to make one more last-ditch effort to redeem himself before he was forced to face the music, of course. He wasn't going to report back a failure if he could avoid it.
Which left him here, just behind a corner in what was once a heavily trafficked hallway.
Lacking in the sheer raw magical power that Kunzite had, the divination skills of Nephrite, or Zoicite's willingness to suck up to people, Jadeite had survived the backstabbing politics of the Dark Kingdom by raw cunning, ruthlessness, and simply knowing secrets that nobody else did. Such as where all of the various traps and security devices were hidden.
And this being the main approach to the throne room, there were a large number of traps. Jadeite had always liked this one in particular, as it was almost purely mechanical, a rarity in their highly magical society. But very useful if the people you were trying to catch included mages. One good pull on the hidden switch, and the entire ceiling would collapse on top of the fools heading this way.
Jadeite was rubbing his hands together and trying to suppress his cackle of glee when he abruptly found himself having trouble breathing. The large black-furred arm wrapped around his throat would probably explain that. And before he could say or do anything, he felt some solid metal pressed against his temple. Jadeite may not have been the most experienced of people with guns, but even he understood that moving was probably not a good plan right now.
A deep, throaty voice whispered in a disturbingly calm tone into his ear. “Now, buddy, you seem to know how things are laid out around here. And I seem to be a bit lost and could use a guide. What say you give me the five dollar tour, hmm?”
It took Jadeite a moment to realize this person was speaking in English; he was too used to dealing with Japanese. Ancient translation spells still worked, though. “Who do you think you are?”
“I'm the person with a gun to your head. I'm also the one who's supposed to be asking the questions here.”
“Do you have any idea who I am, human?”
Sam Fisher pulled his finger back on the trigger half-way, resulting in a quiet click from the gun that could not be missed by the person whose ear was right next to it. “You're the person I was asking politely about what's going on here. I can be a lot less polite. You can regenerate from quite a bit of damage, from what I understand.”
Both of them were then distracted by another voice drifting down the hallway, speaking softly in Japanese: “Down this way. Watch your step, this is a long hallway with no side exits and makes for a good shooting gallery.”
Biting off a curse, Jadeite teleported out of Fisher's grip, swatted the man's gun away from him, then jumped to the catch in the wall to set off the trap. At least, that was the intention. Swatting the hand holding a gun that is already cocked and ready to fire was a bad idea, as Jadeite found out when the gun fired as his hand hit it. The bullet left a stinging, grazing track down his arm.
Sam Fisher simply swung around and slammed his left fist into Jadeite's head, knocking the kitsune back against the wall and well into unconsciousness. He then grabbed his gun again as the other folks rounded the corner at the other end of the hallway, and nearly dropped it as he saw what was there. An elderly gentleman in a skintight black suit, a werewolf in a tuxedo, and behind them were a jagwere in a red silk shirt, another one in some sort of metal armour, three girls (a werelioness, a weretigress, and a werewolf) in rather revealing outfits, and a girl carrying what looked like a portable cannon who was looking him over like a piece of grade-A beef.
Just seconds earlier...
“What the Hell was that?”
“Gunshot,” said Brianna. “Small pistol, sounds like a .357 with a misaligned silencer. Likely a Sig Sauer, definitely an agent's gun, easily concealable. Probably hit during a scuffle, which was why the silencer was off.” She stopped as she realized everybody else there was staring at her, including her own father. “What?”
Dr. Diggers just shook his head. “Never mind.” He and Mamoru turned into the hallway to see a large werepanther holding a gun in their general direction, and standing over an unconscious Jadeite.
The panther said, in English, “What say we start with the introductions.” He held his cool as the other six people filed in behind the first two.
Brianna grinned as she looked over the panther, who was obviously wearing clothes sized for his smaller human form. She quickly checked out the gun and the other equipment he had on him, and turned to her father. “See, told you it was an agent's gun. Textbook CIA infiltration getup.”
Dr. Diggers placed his hand on his daughter's head and sighed. “Please just let me handle this.”
“Well?”
Taking a single step forward, Dr. Diggers twisted his hand, causing a business card to appear in it. “My name is Doctor Theodore Pisquale Diggers. I work with Agency Zero.” He flicked the card down the hallway with exaggerated care, where it landed just in front of the werepanther's feet.
Holding his gun steady, the panther frowned at that, then said in a very calm voice, “Agency Zero doesn't exist.”
Dr. Diggers smiled at the old code-phrase. “All the better to strike against those who shouldn't.”
With that the panther crouched down to pick up the card, ran his thumb across it, then nodded. “Diggers, hmm? From Atlanta?”
“Decatur, actually, but close enough for government work.”
The panther put his gun back in his holster. “Pleased to meet you. Sam Fisher, and as the young lady noted, CIA. Hopefully you have a better idea of where we are now than I do; I came in through the back door.”
Mamoru spoke up in his slightly accented English. “This place is located close to the North Pole.”
“Mmm-hmm. That would explain my radio problems. And you are?”
“I am known as Tuxedo Kamen.”
Sam Fisher blinked at this, a few pieces from half-forgotten briefings coming together in his mind. “Then the other ladies behind you are actually the, um, Sailor Senshi?”
Having recognized only the last two words, Usagi raised her scepter up and had just opened her mouth to make a speech introducing herself when she found her face covered by an orange hand and a weretigress glaring at her. Glaring back, she managed to get out a muffled “You're mean, Rei.”
With a sigh as Makoto tried not to chuckle, Mamoru said, “Yes, I'm afraid so.”
Sam snickered. “Looks like we've got a few files to update back home.”
Mamoru looked concerned. “You have files on us?”
Sam shrugged. “Not my department, and not a lot of detail in them. Mostly just a ‘Don't bother them without a good reason’ warning.”
Meanwhile, Ranma had mostly tuned out the conversation once he realized they were going to be talking and not fighting. Sure, from his travels he actually knew more conversational English than most Japanese his age, but that just meant he could get himself into deeper trouble if he tried using it. So he was looking around the area instead. Something had been bothering him ever since they left the cavern where the big fight had been, and he wasn't sure what.
He had a good guess, sure, given that nobody had seen Konatsu or Jadeite after the fight. And Jadeite was right there, which left Konatsu missing somewhere. The ninja could be anywhere, sneaking up on them.
Then, almost as clear as if his old man were standing beside him, he could remember one of Genma's lessons in being unnoticed. “I'm teaching you to cling to the ceiling so you can get around without people seeing you. Nobody ever looks up, boy!”
So Ranma looked up.
Right into a rather startled pair of eyes that seemed to be hanging in mid-air above him. Oh, wait, now that he knew what to look for, he could just see the rest of the outline of Konatsu's body against the ceiling.
There was a split-second of hesitation on both sides.
Ranma broke the tableau first by jumping upward and trying to take a swing at Konatsu while he opened his mouth to yell a warning. Unfortunately, any preparation would have given his actions away, so it was a pale imitation of the jumps he was normally capable of, and just caught a glancing slap across Konatsu's ankle.
Konatsu, naturally, decided that discretion was the better part of valor. By the time Ranma was in motion, so was she; before anybody else could react, the kitsune ninja had launched herself down the hallway, caught and rolled on hitting the floor, and grabbed Jadeite's prone body in one smooth motion before rolling to a standing position and running.
Sam Fisher managed to fire off a couple of rounds after the fleeing kitsune before cursing as they disappeared into the gloom. “What the hell was that?!”
Ranma grumbled. “Konatsu. Ninja.” Searching his mind for the English words, he added, “Very good. One of best.”
Sam nodded. “Well, there goes any hope of the advantage of surprise. Mind if I tag along with you until we get out of here?”
After turning and seeing the chorus of assent from behind him, Dr. Diggers said, “We wouldn't mind at all. As I'm sure my daughter here will agree, more firepower is always useful.” As Tuxedo Kamen started to lead the way up the hall, Dr. Diggers added, “This was supposed to be an infiltration and retrival mission, not an assault, but I'm sure you're familiar with von Moltke's Law.”
With a grin, Sam Fisher responded, “No plan survives first contact with the enemy.”
As the group headed down the hallway, Ranma rolled his eyes and muttered in Japanese, “Ain't that the truth.”
Meanwhile...
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(Posted Sun, 07 Nov 2004 00:39)
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