Day 98

[from Project Nero]

"So, who's next?" asked Alexis.

"Next, we're going to visit Melody Montrose," said Nero. "She's my… science and technology partner, I guess you could say. She provides various services for me in those fields."

"And those would be…?" prompted Alexis.

"Well, firstly, my sword," said Nero. "It's obsidian-edged, like a surgeon's scalpel, providing expert sharpness and precision. Of course, that cutting edge doesn't last forever; it gets dulled over time, and putting on a new layer of coating is a fiddly science-y thing. So I get Melody to do that instead."

"I see," said Alexis.

Nero nodded. "Yeah. Little details like that are important. Secondly, she's a computer genius. Well… she's a genius, full stop, but her computer skills in particular are unmatched in the whole city. So if something needs hacking, she's the person I turn to. Thirdly…" Conscious of all the people around them on the sidewalk, Nero lowered his voice a little. "She's very good at removing blood stains from clothing, which is rather important in our line of work. Especially when you use a sword."

"Why do you use a sword?" asked Alexis, who had been rather curious about this up until now. "Why not just use guns, like I do? They're cheaper, easier to get, easier to conceal…"

"…inaccurate, capable of jamming, make a lot of noise, need constant maintenance, need a constant supply of ammunition…" countered Nero, rattling off the long list of complaints as though he had rehearsed it a hundred times before. "Not to mention they just feel so… impersonal. I like being able to actually feel the killing blow as I land it."

"I see," said Alexis again. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"Of course, guns have their own advantages," said Nero. "Much longer range, harder to block or dodge an accurate shot… like you said, they're easier to conceal, and easier to get your hands on. But I just prefer my sword."

"Fair enough," said Alexis.

"Now, there's two important things you'll need to know about Melody," said Nero, as they turned onto a residential street. "Firstly: try not to address her as a criminal. She's not one of us. She's merely turned her expertise into a way to pay rent. Secondly, on a related note, she's very sensitive and fragile. As a matter of fact, she suffers from selective mutism, so don't expect her to physically speak at all while we're there."

"Selective mutism?" repeated Alexis. "What's that?"

"Basically, she's so shy around new people, and unfamiliar situations, that she becomes physically unable to speak," Nero explained. "She might actually communicate with us in other ways, like writing things down, but she won't actually say a word the whole time we're there. When there's no-one around, she's a fairly normal teenage girl."

"Huh," said Alexis, nodding vaguely in acknowledgement.

"Oh, and also, don't ask her why she's mute like that," said Nero. "I know it's something to do with a childhood trauma she experienced, but she hasn't even told me the details of that yet, and I thought it best not to ask. I'm sure you can understand that, right?"

Alexis nodded. Though she had been able to tell Nero about the murder of her parents, she was still very reluctant to discuss it. It was a very painful subject for her, and evidently whatever had caused Melody's trauma was a very painful subject for her as well, especially if it would still having such a profound effect on her.

"I'll tell you this, though," said Nero, as the pair started to make their way up Melody's driveway. "When I first knew her, she was just fourteen. Her parents weren't home then and they're not home now."

"How do you know that?" asked Alexis, a second before Nero pointed at the completely empty driveway. There was no garage, and no sign that a car had been parked in front of the house in quite some time. Alexis nodded once more. "So where are they, then?"

Nero merely shrugged. Though the answer seemed fairly obvious to him, he did not want to discuss it while there was a chance Melody might overhear them. "Only one person here knows for sure," he said, "and she isn't talking." The pair of them came to a halt at Melody's front door. "Well then…"

Nero rang the doorbell and stepped back. After a short wait, the door opened a crack, revealing a sliver of a face, a single lavender eye and a tangled black fringe visible in the narrow gap. Nero gave the girl a warm, welcoming smile. "Hey, Melody," he said. "I've brought over a new friend of mine. May we come in?"

There was a brief pause, then Melody nodded and the door opened fully, giving Alexis her first proper look at the girl. She was even younger than Alexis had been expecting, only about fifteen or sixteen, with wavy black hair that seemed a little tangled and unkempt. She wore a pale blue T-shirt with a picture of an anime character on it, and dark jogging pants, though judging from her rather small frame, she did not do much exercising. Her expression was somewhat nervous, her eyes darting back and forth between Nero and Alexis as she stood to one side, allowing the two of them in.

"Nice place you got here," said Alexis, nodding appreciatively as the pair made their way inside. It was indeed a reasonably-sized, well-furnished house. She wondered how much it was costing the girl to live here, in terms of rent, and wondered in turn how much Nero was paying her for her work.

Melody, as she closed and locked the door behind her, blushed a little and gave a small nod. The three of them gathered around Melody's table, and the girl took out a small touch-screen phone that was also equipped with a keypad. This was her primary method of communication, with her throat refusing to work as it should. Her eyes continues to dart back and forth between the two before settling, with some unease, on Alexis.

Nero, sensing Melody's anxiety, decided to ease her into the conversation to make her feel more comfortable. "That's a new T-shirt, isn't it?" he asked her. Melody nodded shyly. "Where's that character from? She looks familiar somehow."

Melody started to type a response on her smartphone. Despite her nervousness, her typing speed was phenomenal, her slender fingers a blur over the keypad. It's Sailor Mercury, she typed. From Sailor Moon.

"I see," said Nero, nodding. "Are you doing well? How's your thesis coming along?"

It's going well, thanks, typed Melody. Are you going to introduce me to your friend, then?

Nero nodded. "Of course. Melody, this is Alexis Moreau. Starting today, she'll be working alongside me. Alexis, this, as you've probably already guessed, is Melody Montrose."

Alexis waved to the girl by way of greeting. "Hey."

Melody forced a smile, returning the wave. The room was silent for a moment before Melody took up her phone and began typing once more. Would you like a cup of tea? she typed.

"Yes please," said Nero, smiling. "Thank you, Melody."

Alexis shook her head. "I'm fine, thank you," she said.

Melody smiled back at Nero, and stoop up to go to the kitchen and make the coffee. "She seems like a really nice girl," Alexis whispers to Nero. "How'd she get mixed up in this kinda shit?"

"Like I said, she's just in it for the money," said Nero. "She needs a place to live, just like you did."

Day 97

[from Faction]

The five survivors huddled behind a damaged school bus, its windows cracked and its tires deflated. Their weapons were primed, and ready to go. On the other side of the school bus lay the road to one of the Faction's strongholds, a supermarket. If they could take control of that, they could free up whatever supplies remained there for the rest of the city's survivors, as well as clearing the Faction out of the immediate area, making it safe for people to return to. The five of them were determined to clear the Faction out of the occupied city, even if it had to be one block, one street at a time.

The group's de facto leader, Tyler Kent, poked his head around the front of the school bus and quickly withdrew it as three bullets ricocheted off the metal bodywork just inches above his head. "Yeah, they're out there in force, and spoiling for a fight," he said. "Well, if they want a fight, we'll give 'em one." He turned to the four fighters gathered beside him. "You guys all remember the plan, right?"

The group's only female, an assault-rifle-wielding girl named Shelley Williams, smirked. "Don't need to," she said. "We go in, kill all the Faction guys, and take back the supermarket. That's all I need to know."

Tyler groaned, as did the man next to him, a dark-haired male named James Anderson who wielded a pair of Glock pistols. "You're gonna get yourself killed, you idiot," he scolded. Shelley stuck out her tongue defiantly.

Tyler sighed. "I'll go with Shelley, then," he said. "Andy, remember to stay behind the rest of us, in case one of us needs medical attention. Last thing we need is you getting shot."

Andrei Hristov, a surgeon at one of the city's hospitals whom the group had rescued a few days ago, nodded. He clutched his revolver in his hands, which were perfectly steady despite him being the most nervous of the five; a heritage of his medical background. "Understood," he said, the Russian barely audible in his accent. "I'll try and stay as close as I can, though."

"Alright," said Tyler. "James, you ready?"

James nodded, a serious expression on his face. "Always."

Tyler nodded in return. "Firebrace, you ready?"

Firebrace, the tallest member of the group, was a veteran of the war in Afghanistan. As the most experienced group member in terms of fighting, he often helped Tyler and James come up with mission tactics. He nodded, gripping his heavy assault rifle tightly. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Alright," said Tyler. "And I take it the-"

Tyler was suddenly cut off by James, holding up a hand for silence. Faint, hurried footsteps could be heard coming from the other side of the bus, gradually growing louder. "Ready or not, they're coming," he said.

"I got this," said Tyler. "Alright, people, it's go time!"

Tyler leaned round the front of the bus and quickly shot dead two oncoming Faction agents. The third merely stumbled, wounded, but as he tried to climb back to his feet, James also rounded the bus and shot him three times, killing him. The rest of the group quickly came out from under the bus and began to advance, fanning out and taking out any Faction member they happened to see.

As per the group's instructions, Andrei stayed behind the other four, sheltered behind a burnt-out car. James and Firebrace proceeded slowly forwards, making good use of what cover was available, while Shelley rushed forwards as per usual, spraying bullets at any Faction members she saw without any regard for her own safety. Tyler followed shortly behind her, making sure to take out any enemies she happened to miss.

Inevitably, as Shelley was halfway to the supermarket entrance, a bullet struck her right in the chest, sending her sprawling. Fortunately, like the rest of the group, she was wearing a bulletproof vest and was not injured, but the impact still took the wind out of her sails. Tyler quickly dragged her behind another parked car while she recovered.

"We really need to have a serious discussion about your suicidal tactics," said Tyler, before popping up over the car's hood to take potshots at the man who had hit Shelley.

Shelley propped herself up onto her elbows, wincing a little. "Yeah, I know," she said, "I just wanna get it over with. Our mission is to kill them, so… ahh…" She gasps a little in pain as she adjusts herself so she is hidden better behind the car. "Man, that's gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow."

"Maybe that'll teach you your lesson, then," said Tyler. "Alright, cover me, I need to reload. And that means stay behind cover," he added sternly, as Shelley climbed up onto her knees.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," said Shelley. "I got this." Rising up over the top of the car for a moment, she fired her assault rifle's grenade launcher attachment. The launched grenade flew straight towards the car her assailant was using as cover, bouncing on the pavement before rolling neatly under it. As it exploded, it blew up the car as well, incinerating the soldier and shattering the windows of the adjacent house, the door blowing off its hinges. "Hah! Suck it, bitch!" she shouted triumphantly, an instant before Tyler grabbed her head and pulled her back behind cover.

As they gradually advanced, the resistance they met seemed to decrease; it seemed the Faction grunts, eager for battle, had all rushed forward at once, leaving very few people to actually guard the base itself. Even the sniper that was normally on the roof did not seem to be present, though Firebrace had been ready to take him out just in case. Soon, the group were in front of the supermarket, and apart from Shelley's slight bruising, they were all completely unharmed, fully loaded, and ready to make their entrance.

"Remember, watch your fire," said Tyler. "If there's any food left here, we need to leave as much of it as possible in case there are any more civilians that need it. We've already secured a path from the city limits out to here, so we can get supplies in now as well. You all ready?" The other group members nodded in unison. "Alright then. On my mark. Three… two… one… let's go!"

Day 96

[from Sonic the Hedgehog Returns]

Back at Knothole, Rotor was tracking Tails' retreat. His brow furrowed slightly. "This isn't good," he said.

"Is the Death Egg still pursuing him?" asked Sally.

"Yeah," said Rotor, nodding. "He's travelling at several times the Death Egg's speed, so it's not going to catch him, but it's matching his course exactly. At this rate, Tails will end up leading him straight here."

 Once again Sonic reached in and grabbed the microphone. "Change your course, l'il bro!" he yelled into it. "You're leaving a trail for Buttnik to follow straight to Knothole!"

"Sorry, Sonic!" Tails replied, shouting over the rushing wind. "I didn't think he'd still be following me."

"He's probably tracking you somehow," said Sonic.

"That would make sense," agreed Sally.

"So what should I do, Sonic?" asked Tails. "Wherever I land, the Death Egg will still be heading for me, right?"

"Yeah, good point…" Sonic thought for a moment. Then, he had an idea. It was a crazy idea, but it had to work. "Head northwest, towards the Emerald Hill Zone. Try and find a safe landing strip. I'll meet you there, and then with that flying fortress diverted away from here, we'll fly up there and take it down."

"And just how are you planning on doing that?" asked Sally warily. "That plane only has one seat, you know."

"Then I'll just hold on to the wings," said Sonic. "Simple!"

To Sally, this was a remarkably stupid plan even by Sonic's standards. "You can't be serious," she said flatly.

"I'm deadly serious," Sonic retorted. "It's the only way we can get up there in order to shut it down."

"But… you… you ca…" Sally forced herself to calm down and swallow her frustrations. She had to make Sonic see sense. This plan was never going to work. "Okay. Let's say you somehow make it to the Death Egg without falling off the Tornado. Let's say you somehow evade its defences and manage to get in close to it. How do you then plan on getting inside?"

This was where Rotor chimed in. "Here," he said, pointing at his surveillance footage. "There's a gap in its armour plating, near the back. I guess Robotnik must have launched it before it was finished.

"When will he ever learn?" smirked Sonic, amused.

"Let's hope he never does, for all our sakes," Rotor replied.

Sally was flabbergasted at first, but eventually, realizing there was nothing she could do to stop him, she heaved a weary sigh. "Okay, fine," she said. "You can go. Here: take this headset." She tossed Sonic a thin pair of headphones with a small microphone attached, which the hedgehog promptly put on. "If you actually do make it inside in one piece, I'll have NICOLE project the schematics back up so I can guide you to the Death Egg's engine room."

"You'll be needing this as well, then," said Rotor, handing Sonic a metallic bracelet. "That bracelet contains a tracking signal. Once you're inside the Death Egg, we'll be able to use that signal to track your position inside it, so we know where you are and where to guide you."

"Alright, thanks, Rotor," said Sonic, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist. "I'll probably make it to Emerald Hill before Tails does, so I'll scout out a good landing site for him. You can guide him to my location after that, right?"

"Of course I can," said Rotor. "Good luck, Sonic. We're all counting on you."

All Sally had to say was, "Please try not to fall off the plane."

"Thanks, guys," said Sonic, revving himself up. "Alright, I'm outta here: I got a plane to catch!" And with that, Sonic zoomed straight out of the building, racing out of Knothole and through the trees of the Great Forest in the direction of Emerald Hill Zone. As she watched him go, Sally let out another exasperated sigh.

"You're worried about him, aren't you, Sally?" asked Rotor.

"Of course I am!" retorted Sally, her face turning pink. "He's the Freedom Fighter's greatest hope in the battle against Robotnik, but he takes such stupid great risks! If he falls off that plane and breaks his neck, it's his own stupid fault."

Day 95

[from ARK]

After stopping off at the ARK's biology centre, where most of Professor McCarthy's future colleagues were sadly absent, he and Professor Gibson eventually made their way to the ARK's medical centre in search of Professor Gerald. Either side of the entrance were rows of cubicles, each containing a pristine white bed and an assortment of state-of-the-art medical equipment. Though there were at least twenty beds, with doors leading further wings, there were only two patients at the moment. One was a boy of about eight who was laid up in bed with what seemed to be a fever, a thermometer dangling from between his lips; a subtle reminder that the scientists were not the only people aboard the ARK.

The other patient, sat on a bed just to their right, was also a civilian, a woman of about twenty-five. She was quite beautiful, aside from two rather gruesome old wounds that seemed to be the cause of her visit. An eyepatch that had presumably been placed over her left eye had been lifted up to reveal the scarred, empty eye socket beneath, and her upper left arm, exposed by her rolled-up sleeve, had several larger scars running across it. At any other facility, the doctors might not have been able to save it, thought Prof. McCarthy.

The woman was currently being tended to by a female doctor, who appeared to be testing how well she was able to see with just her one eye. The two ladies noticed the men as they entered, but did not otherwise acknowledge them, continuing to go about their business as before.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Hendry," said Professor Gibson, stopping momentarily to greet them. "Good afternoon, Miss Lubiński."

"Good afternoon, Professor," said Dr. Hendry, going about her business as before.

Miss Lubiński nodded, replying in a diluted Eastern European accent. "Good afternoon, Mr. Gibson."

"How can you tell up here?" asked Professor McCarthy.

"Clocks, both bodily and otherwise," replied Professor Gibson. "You'll get the hang of it pretty quickly. Ah, yes; this is Professor James McCarthy," Gibson continued, gesturing at his companion. "He'll be starting here tomorrow. Professor, this is Doctor Julia Hendry, our resident optometrist. With any luck, you won't need to see too much of her."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Prof. McCarthy, bowing slightly in greeting.

"Likewise," said Dr. Hendry.

"And this," said Professor Gibson, gesturing at the woman, "is Gabryjela Lubiński. Her father was the late Professor Dariusz Lubiński, who assisted a lot of our early research here on the ARK."

"You're Professor Lubiński's daughter?" repeated McCarthy, surprised. "I've read his research papers. He was a great scientist. I was saddened to hear that he'd passed away. It was a couple of years ago now, wasn't it?"

Gabryjela nodded, looking a little saddened by the sudden memories of her deceased father. "Almost three years," she said.

Professor McCarthy nodded. "I never got the chance to meet him, but he sounded like a good man."

"He was," said Gabryjela, nodding.

"Alright, we'll let you get on with your appointment now," said Prof. Gibson. "I'll see the two of you later, then."

The two women nodded, and the two professors continued down through the medical centre. Once they were out of earshot, Prof. McCarthy couldn't resist asking in a low, quiet voice, "So, uhh… what happened to her? Those injuries look like they were sustained only a few years ago, and I'm guessing she was here at the time-"

Professor Gibson held up a hand, signalling for him to stop. His expression suddenly turned grave. "Look. There's certain things here in the colony that we just don’t talk about. What happened with Gabryjela is one of them. You're better off not knowing. Understood?"

Professor McCarthy knew that whatever incident had resulted in Gabryjela's injuries, it must have been a major one, something that had rattled the entire colony to the extent that they refused to bring it up. But if that was the case, then there was no use inquiring further about it. If he needed to know, or they wanted him to know, they would tell him. In the meantime, he would just have to suppress his curiosity about the incident. He gave Gibson a curt nod. "Understood," he said. "I guess I have a lot to learn about how this place works."

"You'll pick it up pretty quickly," said Professor Gibson. "Everyone does. Now then…" They had reached a door at the end of the corridor, beyond which lay the specialized medical facilities that catered to Maria. Signs on the wall next to the door highlighted this fact, as well as the need to be completely sterilized before entry.

"I'll go in first, and tell Professor Gerald you've arrived," said Prof. Gibson. "The light will go out once I've been sterilized, and then it'll be your turn." He pointed to a circular red light above the door, that was currently switched off. "I know you were sterilized before you got on the shuttle, but Gerald just likes to be careful. Besides, I dare say our sterilization systems are better than those on Earth." He took hold of the handle and pulled open the door, revealing a small chamber with a faint green glow inside. "I'll see you in a minute, then."

Prof. Gibson closed the door behind him, and the red light above it winked on. Prof. McCarthy could hear muffled hissing sounds coming from within, and after a short time that couldn't have been more than forty seconds, the sterilization was complete, and the red light turned back off again. Prof. McCarthy opened the door and stepped into the sterilization chamber himself, closing the door behind him.

A second after closing the door, the professor found himself being sprayed with strong disinfecting jets from both sides, and from above. They were very powerful, and rather hot, but they sprayed in very short bursts, only a fraction of a second each, making the experience far more bearable than it might otherwise have been. The nozzles of the jets moved slowly around, making sure they sprayed every square inch of Prof. McCarthy's body, killing any germs that could possibly have been on his skin. The whole process took little more than thirty seconds, and when it was done, the door at the other end opened automatically, ushering him into the isolated chamber.

The walls and ceiling here were not the starched white of the main medical bay: they were a blinding sky blue, with fluffy clouds painted here and there. It would almost look like a child's bedroom, if not for the masses of machines, computers, and other miscellaneous equipment that filled the room, covering the back wall entirely. Amongst all this chaos, there was only a single bed, and again, this was not an ordinary hospital bed. It was a king-size four-poster bed, with pastel pink sheets. It occurred to Prof. McCarthy that this wasn't just Maria's treatment room; at times when her condition was worse, this would be like a second home to her. The professor had done all he could to make it comfortable for her, in spite of the masses of machinery around the room.

The professor himself was sat at Maria's bedside. He was a short, very rotund man, with a large, bushy grey moustache and round pince-nez glasses, that appeared to have a spiral pattern in the lenses. Professor Gibson was stood next to him, waiting for his companion to enter. "Ah, here he is now," he said as McCarthy entered, causing Gerald to look round. He offered the newcomer a kind smile that was, unfortunately, mostly hidden beneath his voluminous facial hair.

"You must be Professor James McCarthy," he said, getting to his feet. "I've heard so much about you. I'm Professor Gerald Robotnik. Please, call me Gerald." He took McCarthy's hand and shook it; his hand was warm and sweaty, and his grip was firm. "Welcome to Space Colony ARK. I'm sorry I couldn't be at the docking bay to welcome you, but I'm sure you'll understand, given the circumstances. I trust Professor Gibson gave you the grand tour?"

"He did, yeah," said Prof. McCarthy. "I still can’t believe you designed this whole station by yourself… it's enormous!"

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Gerald, smiling. "Thank you. I consider this station to be my pride and joy. Well…" He turned back to the bed, his gaze resting on the sleeping figure within. "My second-greatest pride and joy."

The pair of them walked back to Maria's bedside, joining Professor Gibson, and Professor McCarthy caught his first glimpse of the girl sleeping soundly within. Her covers were pulled right up to her neck, so all he could see of her was her pale face, and the thin, delicate fingers that clutched gently at her bedsheets. She was young, only about eleven or so, and definitely small for her age. She had long blonde hair, and several stray hairs trailed their way across her pillow as she slumbered. An oxygen mask covered her face, obscuring her mouth, misting up slightly every time she breathed out. Her chest rose and fell with each quiet breath she took, and other than the quiet hums of the machinery surrounding her, and the rhythmic, reassuring beeping of her heart monitor, the room was completely silent for a moment.

"This is my grand-daughter, Maria Robotnik," said Professor Gerald. "She means the world to me. But… she's dying. And here on the ARK, I'm trying to save her."

Day 94

[from Don't Say a Word]

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2041

THREE MONTHS BEFORE RYUJI'S KIDNAPPING

Shizukesa's mission today seemed like a simple one, but it had taken a lot of planning. There were two targets: Kenji Hirayama and his wife, Aoko. They were both high-level researchers at Kasaiki Corporation, said to be working on something that could turn the tide of the battle for Japan in Kasaiki's favour. Mitsukashi were not prepared to allow Kasaiki to proceed with this research, and so the Hirayamas were to be put to death.

Tonight they had booked a romantic dinner for two at a restaurant on the sixtieth floor of one of Japan's tallest multi-purpose buildings. They had booked a table right next to the floor-to-ceiling window that took up an entire wall of the restaurant, providing them with a spectacular view of Tokyo at night. It was an excellent way to celebrate Valentine's Day, albeit a day late, though booking a table for the 14th would have been impossible, even for them. So the 15th was to be the date of their deaths; at least, if Shizukesa had anything to say about it.

After a intense discussion, it had been decided that the best way to kill them both at once without anyone realizing would be with a slow-acting poison, administered while they were at the restaurant itself. To this end, Shizukesa was currently impersonating one of the restaurant's waitresses, a woman named Rika Ochida. The real Rika Ochida was sleeping peacefully in her bed at home, having been administered some strong sedatives, and would wake up the following morning with no memory at all of the previous day. If anyone did end up suspecting Rika of the murders, she would have no way of defending herself. It was a clever plan, but it was by no means foolproof.

Shizukesa knew that, as with any of the plans Mitsukashi could have put into action that day, there were a million things that could potentially go wrong. It was impossible to prepare for all of them, but she had done her best. Her handgun was strapped to her thigh as ever, hidden beneath the knee-high skirt of her waitress uniform, and beneath said uniform she was wearing a prototype skin-tight bodysuit that Mitsukashi's R&D team had been working on. Theoretically, it was completely impervious to bullets, even machine gun fire, but it wasn't exactly comfortable. It was rather stifling, as well. She'd asked Mitsukashi to incorporate a cooling system into it, and they were working on doing so, but for the time being she was hot, sweaty, and chafing a little. Having to put on a smile and mime along to her holophone's pre-recorded speech snippets wasn't exactly helping her mood.

"Are you ready to order?" said the phone, in a voice completely different to the one she usually used. Her lips moved perfectly in sync with the synthesized voice, and to most people, it would be almost impossible to tell that she wasn’t the one actually speaking them. Almost.

The Hirayamas nodded in unison, putting aside their menus. "I'll have the chicken in the white wine sauce, please," said Kenji. "And you, dear?"

"I'll have the teriyaki, please," said Aoko. Good choices for a last meal, thought Shizukesa, as she typed the order onto the tablet computer that had belonged to the real Rika. It would then be wireless transmitted to the chefs in the kitchen, and when it was done, she would be notified automatically so she could bring it out to the waiting customers. It was a much more efficient system of ordering, but Mitsukashi had still seen fit to add something a little extra to it.

As Shizukesa pressed a button, a wireless signal was sent to the holophone in her breast pocket, telling it to play one of its pre-recorded messages. "And to drink?" mimed Shizukesa.

"One bottle of chardonnay, please," said Kenji. "Make it your best. We're celebrating tonight."

Shizukesa gave the couple a sickly-sweet false smile and typed a special message just for the two of them. "Oh, is that so?" she mimed. "Well, I hope you have a very special evening tonight, then!"

Kenji nodded in appreciation of the sentiment. "Thank you," he said.

Shizukesa bowed, and retreated to the kitchen to get the chardonnay bottle as well as two champagne glasses. This was the difficult part. The couple would no doubt want to open and pour the chardonnay themselves, so she couldn't simply pour two glasses and dissolve the poison into them. She couldn't inject the poison into the bottle, either, as the tampering would be spotted, nor could she tamper with the food, as she would have no opportunity to do so. The only way was to lace the glasses themselves with the poison, in such a way that the poison would not be noticed.

To this end, Mitsukashi had synthesized a tasteless, colourless powder that would dissolve harmlessly into the chardonnay once poured over it. For three hours, it would gestate inside them, doing nothing in particular. It would then begin to cause massive internal haemorrhaging that would kill them within minutes. Synthesizing such a poison hadn't been easy, and there was only enough for one go. In any case, if something went wrong, they wouldn't be able to try the same plan twice.

When nobody was looking, Shizukesa swiftly took the tiny sachet of poison out of her breast pocket, and sprinkled the colourless powder into both of the glasses. It settled nicely in the grooves in the bottom of the glass, and was completely invisible to the naked eye. From here on in, it was out of her hands. If the attempt was discovered, or they didn't drink the chardonnay for some other reason, she would have to resort to Plan B. For now, all that remained was to take the bottle and glasses out to them.

Carrying a silver tray with the chardonnay, poisoned glasses and her tablet all balanced on it, the fake waitress returned to the Hirayamas' table. "Sorry for the wait!" she said. "Here's your chardonnay and glasses! Can I get you anything else?"

Worryingly, Kenji proceeded to pick up the glass and examine it. "These glasses don't look clean to me," he said suspiciously. "Could we get some different ones, please?"

Shizukesa tried to keep her composure, typing a message she had been rehearsing beforehand though she had hoped she wouldn't be needing it. "I'm sorry," she said. "Those are the only glasses we have right now. I can assure you that they're nice and clean."

Kenji's eyes narrowed. It was clear that for some reason, he didn't trust her. "I'm not so sure," he said.

"Darling, if she says those are the only glasses, then there's nothing we can do," said Aoko. "They look clean enough to me-"

"Could you give me a minute to speak to my wife in private, please?" asked Kenji.

Shizukesa realized that things were starting to go south, but there was nothing she could do about it, short of switching to Plan B, which she wasn't quite willing to do yet. Instead, she simply nodded and moved away to another table. As a result, she didn't hear the resulting conversation between Kenji and his wife.

"Kenji, what's going on-?" asked Aoko, confused.

Kenji motioned for his wife to whisper, reaching across the table with his other hand and clutching his wife's hand tightly. He motioned at Shizukesa, speaking in hushed tones. "Listen to me very carefully," he said. "Do you remember we were warned about that assassin named Shizukesa? The one who might come after us due to our work? Well, I'm 99% sure that's her there. The waitress. I've suspected it ever since she first came to our table." He held up one of the glasses. "Don't drink the chardonnay, and don't drink from these glasses; she's probably poisoned them. The food might be safe, but we can't take that chance. Now-"

"Wait, wait, hold on," said Aoko. "You're telling me that this waitress is Shizukesa?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," said Kenji.

"But, how did she know where we would-"

"It's whatever corporation she works for," said Kenji. "Somewhere in that massive data cloud of theirs, they found out where we'd be today, and decided to use it to take us out."

"Well, what are we gonna do?" asked Aoko, starting to panic a little. "She's going to try and kill us some other way even if we don't drink the champagne, right?"

"Relax, it's alright," said Kenji.

"How is this alright?!" hissed Aoko. "An assassin is trying to kill us!"

"Keep your voice down," said Kenji. "We don't want to start a panic. Innocent people might get hurt. Now, listen to be very carefully. We're going to get out of here. I have a gun."

"You have a what?" repeated Aoko, shocked.

"Inside my jacket," said Kenji. "I bought it on the black market, so I could protect us, in case something like this ever happened. If she tries to stop us, I'll shoot her." He squeezed his wife's hand tighter, as she stifled a gasp. "We're going to make it out of here. I promise."

Before his wife could object, Kenji took a deep breath, and called Shizukesa back over. "Excuse me!" he called out.

Shizukesa put on her best false smile and returned to the table, tablet in hand. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked.

"What did you say your name was again?" asked Kenji.

Shizukesa started to get a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she played along regardless. "Rika Ochida," she said. "It's been a pleasure to serve you today."

Kenji smiled wryly. "Are you sure it isn't Shizukesa?" he asked.

Rumbled. Somehow - perhaps simply through sheer paranoia and dumb luck - this man had seen through her disguise. But she still had the upper hand. Her smile slipped a little, but she remained fairly composed. "Quite sure," she replied. This was, technically, the truth: Shizukesa was only an alias, after all.

Kenji's hand disappeared into his jacket pocket, and Shizukesa watched as her covertly pulled out a gun, pointed it at her under the table, and audibly cocked it, while his wife looked on in mild terror. At this point, there was no sense in keeping up the charade any longer. Shizukesa's fake smile vanished completely from her face,  replaced by her usual cold, emotionless glare. Kenji's suspicions were confirmed.

"We're going to walk out of here now," said Kenji. "Me and my wife, together. If you try to stop us, I will not hesitate to shoot you. Is that understood?"

This time Shizukesa's lips did not move. "I'm afraid I cannot allow that," she typed.

"Well then…" Kenji's finger tightened around the trigger, as he prepared to fire.

Day 93

[from Electron]

With his suit designed, and being constructed, Aaron's superhero training began in earnest. It had been found that the source of his powers was a reservoir of electrical energy deep inside him, a reservoir that not only seemed to be limitless, but could also be conducted effortlessly throughout his entire body. By projecting it out through his hands, he could fire powerful beams of electricity that he and Martin dubbed "Ion Beams", that were able to stun opponents. He could also get in close to them and grab them with an electrified hand, something they had jokingly referred to as the "Vulcan Death Grip" before settling on the more serious name of "Taser Grip".

Aaron's powers went beyond just this, however. By manipulating the electrical currents he produced, he was able to create electromagnetic fields. These fields could attract and repel any magnetic object - explaining the incident with the cars during his Awakening - and also be projected outwards in the form of a shield, to protect him from bullets. His suit would still be bulletproof, however, just in case he were ever caught off-guard.

Aaron was not a superhero yet. His suit was still being made. He was still learning to control his powers, and to use them well in a fighting environment. They had not even settled on a name yet: Aaron liked "Static", while Martin was leaning towards something like "Electro". However, he would need to finish his training soon, for elsewhere in his home state of Florida, there was a city crying out for a hero such as himself.

DOWNTOWN SILVERBURG
AROUND THAT TIME
As Titus walked, his footprints cracked the pavement beneath him, leaving a trail of foot-shaped craters in his wake. It was hard not to do this when your entire body was fused with industrial-grade steel, giving you gleaming silver skin and prodigious strength - strength that Titus, a career criminal, had decided to use to further said criminal career.

Titus (by coincidence this had been his surname prior to his Awakening) was already known and feared by Silverburg's residents, and with every loud step, frightened citizens fled before him. Only one of them dared to challenge him; a store owner who rushed out, shotgun in hand, and blasted Titus with both barrels. The pellets merely ricocheted off Titus' skin, scattering on the floor, and a moment later the supervillain was upon him. With one hand he snapped the shotgun barrel in half, and with the other delivered a blow to the chest that stopped the man's heart. The man crumpled to the floor, and by the time any help arrived, he was already dead.

Deciding there was nothing of value in the man's shop, Titus continued on to the next block and his initial target: a jewelry store. Smashing his way through the glass door, he approached the store counter and the petrified shop assistant. He placed a gleaming metallic hand on the glass display case, running his palm along it and producing a horrible scratching sound.

"I'll take these, if you don't mind," growled Titus. He drew back his hand, and punched straight through the bulletproof glass.

***

A short time later, having loaded every piece of jewelry worth stealing into a large rucksack held in his hand, Titus emerged through the shattered storefront to the sound of sirens, as a police car approached the scene. The two officers inside turned to each other as they screeched to a halt, unsure how to proceed.

"What the hell are we supposed to do?" asked one. "He's made of metal!"

"I dunno," said his partner, shrugging. "Taser him, perhaps?"

"Yeah, that might work-"

Having been looking at each other they did not see Titus advance towards them. He stamped hard on the front of the car's hood, flipping it up so it stood on its front bumper, then drew back his free hand and punched the roof of the car. The car skidded backwards on its bumper at least twenty feet, sparks flying, then collided with a parked car and span and rolled back into the road, coming to a stop upside-down and severely dented. Titus strolled past the totalled police car as though it were not there, and went on his way, the rucksack full of jewelry slung over his shoulder.

Day 92

[from Vanishing Point]

By the time the elevator arrived at the top floor, Kiyoko was the only one still inside. She stepped through the open doors and found herself in a spacious, well-lit corridor that seemed to be deserted. "I'm on the top floor," she whispered into the headset, remaining quiet in spite of her apparent isolation.

Cobra's voice responded in her ear. "Good. Now, the CEO's office will most likely be on this floor. If it isn't, start checking the floors below. Remember to set off the fire alarm once you find it."

Kiyoko nodded. "Will do," she whispered.

Kiyoko started making her way through the corridor, glancing at the name plaques on each door as she passed them, checking to see if they were relevant. As she had suspected, she was the only person in the corridor, so she didn't need to worry about bumping into anyone and giving herself away. After following the corridor through a right-hand turn and then halfway down, she found what she was looking for; a door with a gilded plague that read, "SATORU OEYAMA, CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER". Oeyama… recognizing the name, Kiyoko gasped.

Cobra heard the gasp. "What is it, Kiyoko?" she asked. "Did something happen?"

"The CEO's name… it's Oeyama," she said. "Satoru Oeyama."

"So you found the office," said Cobra. "Alright. What's the significance of Oeyama?"

"Dr. Morgan's last name was Oeyama. She told me." Dr. Morgan was the lead researcher at the facility from which Kiyoko, Cobra and Hanako had escaped. She had confronted Kiyoko, and later all three girls, and tried to convince them to stay. They had refused, and on the latter occasion, after stealing the remote control for the entrance gates, Cobra had beaten Morgan unconscious before making her escape with the others. She had seemed fairly young, perhaps in her mid-twenties… "Do you think they could be related?" Kiyoko asked.

There was a pause while Cobra digested this information. "They could be," said Cobra. "That's certainly interesting. Now, let's get back on track. Can you see any fire alarms around?"

Kiyoko looked around briefly for a fire alarm. It didn't take her long to find one: there was one only a few yards further down the corridor, the bright red plastic standing out against the pale wall. Quickly heading over to it, Kiyoko lifted up the glass cover, then pressed the bright red button underneath.

Immediately, a loud bell began to sound throughout the corridor, and down through the whole building. Doors were flung open all around, and employees started filing out into the corridor in their droves. While most were walking, a few were running, panicking that there really might be a fire. Some were carrying stacks of paperwork or half-empty coffee mugs. Kiyoko swiftly flattened herself against the wall of the corridor, lest anyone accidentally bump into her.

In his office, Satoru Oeyama heard the fire alarm as well. He looked up from his paperwork, frowning slightly. He was a thin, ageing man, in his mid-fifties, with short, silvery-white hair. He reached out across his desk and pressed a button on his intercom. "Rika," he asked, "we didn't have any fire drills scheduled for today, did we?"

His secretary's concerned voice drifted through the intercom. "No, sir, we didn't," she said.

"Hmm…" Satoru put down his paperwork, got up from his desk and started to head towards the door, pondering the meaning of this disturbance. Could this be… them?, he wondered.

By the time Satoru entered the corridor, the crowd within was starting to thin out, becoming more orderly. "No running!" called out a high-level employee. "Keep calm and don't panic! I'm sure this is just a drill! Please make your way towards the fire escape in an orderly fashion!"

With the crowd thinning out, Kiyoko carefully made her way back to the door of Satoru's office. Once it was completely deserted once more, she tried the handle. The door would not open. "It's locked…" she muttered, disappointedly, before noticing a keypad next to the door, identical to those at the Shinsuke research facility. "Oh… I think I have to enter a passcode to get in."

"There's a keypad?" Cobra sighed audibly; through the crackly speakers it sounded like a rush of static. "Great… okay, well, we don't have time to figure it out, and if you get it wrong, we're screwed. You'll just have to shoot the lock on the door."

Kiyoko didn't seem too keen on this plan. "Shoot it?" she repeated.

"With the gun Kamui gave you," said Cobra. "Use the silencer, just in case there's anyone still around." The gun's noise would still be audible over the fire alarms, and in any case, the muzzle flash would still give her away.

"Okay," said Kiyoko nervously. She drew the handgun from its holster with a shaking hand, then retrieved a silencer from her left pocket and haphazardly screwed it onto the end of the barrel. Gripping the gun tightly in her shaking hands, she pointed it at the lock of the door, the silencer about a foot away from it. "I… I've never fired a gun before…" she mumbled.

"I never would have guessed," remarked Cobra sarcastically. "Just shoot the damn thing. Nobody will hear it over the fire alarms."

Kiyoko's index finger slowly curled around the trigger. She shut her eyes tightly, as though she could not bear to witness what she was about to do, and as she finally pulled the trigger she flinched away, a pained expression on her face. The muffled bang of the gun was barely audible over the fire alarm, and in a shower of splinters the lock of the door was blown apart, the door creaking open a little.

After taking a moment to compose herself, Kiyoko cracked open an eye to look at the damage. Upon seeing the destroyed lock, and the door now slightly ajar, she breathed a sigh of relief and lowered the slightly-smoking handgun. "I'm never doing that again," she said, unscrewing the silencer from the gun's barrel.

"You only shot a door, Kiyoko," Cobra replied, a little harshly. "Don't make such a big deal out of it. Shooting a person is a big deal, and I should know. Now, go in there and get what you came for."

Kiyoko nodded, as she holstered the gun and slipped the silencer back into her pocket. Pushing open the door, she nervously stepped into Satoru's office. It was large and spacious, the walls painted the same colour as the corridor outside. The left wall was covered in various posters, company memos, and newspaper clippings about Shinsuke Corporation, as well as what looked like a framed degree. The back wall was taken up by a single large window, giving a magnificent view of the Tokyo skyline, although Kiyoko was not exactly in the mood to appreciate it at the time. She had other, more important things to do.

A nameplate on Satoru's desk reiterated his name and status: "SATORU OEYAMA, CEO". Kiyoko crossed to the desk and sat down in the black leather swivel chair behind it, pulling herself up to the desk. The computer's screensaver had not started up yet, and was displaying Satoru's desktop; his background picture was of him and Morgan standing in front of Mount Fuji, smiling broadly. The sight was a little disconcerting. On the desk next to it was a framed picture of a young child with pink hair that Kiyoko assumed was also of Morgan. These two things seemed to settle the question of whether Satoru and Morgan were related.

"Cobra… there's a picture here of Satoru and Morgan together," she whispered into the mic. "I think they're father and daughter."

"That's interesting," Cobra replied. "I guess Mr. Oeyama believes in nepotism."

"Whatitism?" repeated Kiyoko, confused.

"I'll explain later," said Cobra dismissively. "For now, concentrate on getting that data."

"Okay." Kiyoko slipped her hand into her other pocket and pulled out the USB stick Kamui had given her. Plugging into the computer's USB port, the decryption program within immediately began to do its job, hacking Satoru's encryption protocols and laying his files bare. Not sure how to proceed, Kiyoko opened up his operating system's search function and typed in, "TEST SUBJECTS". "Let's see…"