Chapter 2: Shadow Games

Snowflakes, more numerous than the throngs of hurried travelers that bustled about, tumbled lazily from above. A single man stood apart from the flowing tide of people, his hands deep within his coat’s pockets, head tilted back to watch the falling crystals. He would’ve liked to feel the cold sensation they delivered, but the endless line of windows kept it from him, for the moment. Gloved hands left their pockets, fingers peeling back the leather on the left hand, revealing a watch. Dark eyes glanced at the timepiece for a moment, an apologetic look breaking through the stone features he had held since his arrival. Bending forward, he gathered his solitary traveling case, rising again to enter into the flow of people. Being in such close proximity to so many people made him slightly uncomfortable, their stench assailing his nostrils. ‘Really should’ve taken the company jet,’ he thought with irritation as his free hand worked to loosen the tie wrapped tightly about his neck, ‘less people to deal with afterwards.’

The crowd moved like an unrelenting herd, a few dispersing to meet with loved ones, while others joined the movement as they passed several more terminals, nearing the exit. The man thanked his genes for his extra height that allowed him sight above a majority of those in front of him. Spotting the security checkpoints, he wriggled his way from the mass, stopping to smooth out any wrinkles in his black trench coat. Hidden behind a stack of loose luggage sat a passageway, a sign reading ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ tacked to the wooden door leading from the main thoroughfare. Rubbing a hand through thick black hair, the man recalled the images of the airport in his memory. Sure that it would take him where he desired, he drew in a cleansing breath, striding forward with a look of purpose. Next to the door stood a solitary guard, back ramrod straight, face set with deadly seriousness. ‘Former military,’ the man observed with indifference, a hand balling within a pocket.

As the two neared, the security guard raised a hand, steely eyes scrutinizing the black-haired man with trained precision. The trench coat clad man had expected this, his balled fist lifting quickly, a laminated ID card in his grip. “Kenneth Hasket. Air Marshal,” he spoke, voice calm.

Eyes locked as the guard snatched the card from the man’s hand, glancing down to scour every detail of the ID. Wordlessly, the guard reached for the door handle, pulling it open for his guest. Nodding his thanks, Kenneth stepped towards the door, spying the guard fall into behind him. Together they walked through the open door, pausing on the other side. The thud of the closing door rolled like thunder down the whitewashed hallway, a strong hand falling heavily on Kenneth’s shoulder. “There seems to be a small… problem Mr. Hasket,” the guard informed, his other hand sliding over the taller man’s shoulder to show him the ID, “This ID here says your name is Allen Nicemen.”

‘Kenneth’ swiveled his eyes to look at the card, silently cursing when he read the name printed on it. “I’ll need you to come with me, sir,” the black-haired man barely heard the words, hardly felt the guard grip his left wrist tightly.

The faint clicking of metal and the cool sensation against his skin broke the man from his silent reprimand. Glancing over his shoulder he found the guard with his head down, reaching for the prisoner’s right hand. Releasing the suitcase, fingers curling into a fist, the cuffed man swung his elbow back. The guard began lifting his head as the blow struck him in the cheek, his body lurching sideways. Taking advantage of the off balance guard, the other man whipped around to face his captor. Dazed, the guard released the cuffs, planting his hands against a wall. With fluid motions the aggressor lifted his right arm, landing a solid blow to the side of the dazed man’s windpipe with the side of his palm. The blow dropped the guard to the floor in a heap, body unmoving. “Well that went well,” the man snorted, voice thick with sarcasm.

He knelt down next to the body and unclipped the ring of keys from the man’s belt, hastily trying each key, the cuff popping open halfway through the large collection. Pausing, he allowed himself a deep breath, gathering up the false ID and handcuffs. Silently scolding himself again, the man slid the card into a coat pocket, cuffs hanging idly from his other hand. Glancing down the remainder of the hallway he found it still empty, a few doors lining the thinly carpeted corridor. He rose from his crouched position, noticing a square plate attached to the wall next to the closest door. A simple stick figure with the word ‘Men’ in white was printed the plastic sign. “Now that’s customer service,” the man chuckled, grabbing hold of the unconscious guard’s collar.

With surprisingly little apparent effort, the black haired man tossed the limp body over his shoulder, briskly walking the few paces to the bathroom. Cautiously, he nudged the door ajar with his forearm, peering into the room. The soft hiss of running water caused his muscles to tense, the door slowly closing as he pulled his arm away. The prospect of a second body didn’t appeal to the man, but neither did getting captured. Sighing with resignation, shoulders adjusting the weight of the body perched on them, he planted a gloved hand against the door. As the door swung in, the burdened man raced in, his body bent low. A row of sinks, flanked by a large mirror, quickly came into view, a single faucet pouring water into a shallow white bowl. There was no one standing behind the sink, causing the man to come to a quick stop, his hard eyes bouncing about the room. Slightly perturbed at the false alarm, yet relieved at not needing to resort to force, he moved to an empty stall. Flipping down the meager seat and dropping the guard onto it, he released a relived sigh. “And for the final touch,” he chat quietly, tapping the door shut and closing the latch.

Pausing, scanning the enclosed stall with sudden realization, “Well crap,” he groaned, fists resting on his hips.

Crossing his arms, face contorted in deep thought, he shifted his gaze between the floor and the ceiling. The stains on the floor made it an unattractive exit, while the large gap between the ceiling and the top of the stall door was more manageable. Grunting his agreement with the latter plan, hands grasping the top of the metal door, he pulled himself over. Landing with little more than a click, leather gloves pressing out wrinkles littering the man’s coat, he strode from the room. Once back in the hall, he glanced about, watching a woman dressed in a dress suit hurry past mumbling curses and threats. Partially taken aback, the man paused, blinking in confusion. “Glad that wasn’t for me,” he chuckled softly, before falling silent, eyes wide, ‘My suitcase!’

Whirling around, he found the simple black case against the wall near the door he and the guard had entered through. Leaning his head back and letting out a sigh of relief, eyes closed for a moment as another deep breath moved through his body, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever power resided above. He jogged to the suitcase, quickly snatching it up, turning towards the exit at the other end of the narrow hallway. Nothing new presented itself as he pushed the door open, a cold wind racing through the new opening. White crystals gathered on the man’s coat, settled in his slightly muddled hair, a few finding bare skin long enough to melt into tiny droplets. A pair of concrete pillars obscured much of the field of view, but enough was visible to see people bustling to and fro. Beyond the herds of people sat idling cars, cabbies awaiting their next fare or family members dropping off a loved one. Among them sat an elegant black car, the driver standing patiently nearby, head slowly turning as if searching the crowds. The black haired man smirked, stepping from the interior, quickly sliding crossways through the moving throng. “Ah, Mr. Ketchum,” the driver greeted, sounding slightly surprised.

“Hey Brad,” Mr. Ketchum replied with a chuckle, giving the driver a loose two finger salute, “Surprised to see me?”

“Well yeah. Not like you stick out in the crowd,” Brad tried to defend himself, opening his door and stepping down into the driver’s seat.

“That’s kind of the idea,” the passenger smirked, also entering the luxurious interior of the car.

Tossing his suitcase onto the free seat, Mr. Ketchum settled into the warm leather in the rear of the car, eyes closing as the warmth washed over his muscles. “So how was business, Ash?” Brad asked, glancing back at the resting man in the rearview mirror.

“A bit heated,” Ash answered casually, silently enjoying the code talk, “Wouldn’t be surprised if they came to blows in the near future.”

“And if they do?”

“All the easier for us to swoop in and gobble up their market share. But that’s all hypothetical.”

The soft whir of the car’s heater replaced the conversation, both men seeming comfortable with the relative silence. Ash felt as if he could drift into a deep slumber, but held himself to a shallow nap knowing they would reach the home office soon. The quiet carried on for several minutes before the blaring of a siren snapped Ash from his rest, eyes going wide before glancing over at his suitcase. A hearty chuckle echoed from the front of the car, “You can settle down Ash. They were going the other way. What did you do something wrong that I should know about before they label me an accomplice?” he finished with a smirk.

Ash snorted with a mix of frustration and amusement before answering, “Maybe.”

“Oh come on Ash, you’re supposed to be better than that,” Brad admonished playfully, slowly guiding the car around a gentle curve.

“Screw you,” Ash shot back with a devilish smirk, “It was either him or me, and I’m not about to go to prison over a false ID.”

Barely able to control himself, Brad burst into laughter, his entire body shaking, “You fu-messed up good this time,” he mocked, careful to censor himself, unconsciously fearful of what his passenger might do if provoked too much.

“Nice save,” Ash snarled, glaring into the rearview mirror at his driver’s red face.

Slowly reigning in his laughter, Brad apologized, “Sorry man, but that’s one massive slipup. That’s even lower than a rookie mistake.”

“Watch where you trend private. You’re conversing rather brashly with a higher-up,” Ash reprimanded, stone faced.

“Sorry sir!” Brad jeered back, a light grin turning his lips.

“Just watch your tongue, or I’ll be forced to report you,” Ash threatened, his features softening as his body sunk back into the heated leather, quickly drifting into the deep slumber he had been avoiding.

“You never change, do you Ash?” Brad prodded quietly, knowing that he wouldn’t be receiving an answer.

---

Ash awoke to the hollow clank of a finger tapping against glass, his hand instinctively reaching for his suitcase. As his fingers wrapped about the case’s handle, he turned towards the origin of the tapping, his stare met by Brad’s smiling face. Pulling the suitcase onto his lap, Ash gave off an aggravated sigh, annoyed with himself for falling asleep. Brad noticed the displeasure and opened the rear door, offering a hand to Ash. Shaking his head, Ash dismissed the gesture, swinging his legs out of the car. With both feet planted in a blanket of white, he pulled himself from the leather seat, casually closing the door behind him. For a while both men remained next to the vehicle, one surveying the surrounding landscape, the other watching the first. “Supposed I should go in and report,” Ash sighed with a hint of disgust as he gazed upon a simple five story concrete building.

“Yeah Giovanni probably wants to hear all the juicy details.”

This drew an amused snort from Ash, “If only the world knew the dirty little secret of their ‘Philanthropist of the Year’.”

It was Brad’s turn to laugh as he fell in behind Ash as he marched towards the gray structure. Passing through glass doors, they found a rather attractive young woman standing behind a curved counter, ‘Global Aerospace Group’ printed boldly in red on the wall behind her. Greeting her with a curt nod, Ash walked to an elevator nestled in a corner of the building’s lobby. Thumbing the up button, he turned to see Brad waiting with him. “Moral support,” Brad offered, seeing Ash’s inquisitive stare.

“Thanks, but this is my uncle I’m going to see. Plus it’s not like the mission failed.”

“But just the same-” Brad began, interrupted by Ash shaking his head.

The elevator car’s arrival was marked with a ‘ding’, double doors opening with a clunk. Stepping in, Ash poked the button for the fifth floor, offering Brad another two finger salute. Once the door were fully closed a soft voice taunted, “Rejected.”

Brad turned, slightly startled, to see the receptionist grinning as she continued her miscellaneous paperwork. Returning her grin with an overly smug one of his own, Brad left the building to return to the garage to await new orders.

---

Alone in the elevator, Ash felt a hint of regret for leaving Brad behind. ‘Would’ve been no harm in bringing him along,’ he considered, contemplating his own reflection in the polished steel walls, ‘besides, he’s like my little bro. Nothing wrong with a little more family.’

Dropping the train of thought, he continued scrutinizing the face in the metal. His ebony hair was still unruly, albeit, shorter. Some youthful exuberance still colored his eyes, but mostly they showed a discerning attentiveness and calculated poise. What had, long ago, been a boyish, bony frame now held trim muscles. Even his once pale complexion had developed a bronze tan despite headquarters being located in such a perpetually wintry locale. What remained from his youth were the horizontal lightning bolt shapes beneath his eyes, although they seemed faded in contrast to his darkened skin. Before any new thoughts could emerge, the car stopped, it’s doors sliding open. A middle-aged man glanced away from his computer as Ash stepped from the elevator, “Ah, Ash. Giovanni is waiting. Go right in.”

“Thanks,” Ash grunted as he struggled with the buttons on his jacket, his face beginning to twist with his frustration his inability to accomplish a simple task, “Stupid buttons.”

Seeing the young man struggling allowed the elder man a chuckle, the jovial expression only intensifying as Ash sent a death glare his way. The laughter stopped as the ebony haired man peeled the coat from his body and flinging it to the floor. “Having trouble there son?” the seat man jabbed, resting his chin on entwined fingers.

“I-” Ash began, his foot catching in the folds of the discarded coat, causing him to stumble, “I’m just fine thank you!” he finished in a huff.

“I see that,” the man roared with renewed laughter, his head thrown back, his slightly pudgy body shaking.

Flustered, Ash bent over and snatched up the wad of cloth, tucking it roughly under an arm before barging through Giovanni’s door. In true dramatic fashion, Giovanni’s chair faced away from the door, its occupant hidden from view. “You seem to be having a bit of trouble out there my boy,” Giovanni observed humorously as he spun his high back to face Ash, on his weathered face a sizable smirk.

“Glad to see someone’s in good spirits,” Ash grumble gruffly, once again propelling his coat, this time it striking a wall.

“You’ve got to loosen up a bit, or business will break you.”

“Are we talking about this business?” Ash prodded, pointing a finger to the lavishly carpeted floor, “Or your little hobby?” he finished, grinning.

Giovanni chuckled, “Both. Just one breaks a person a bit harder.”

With a sweep of his hand, Giovanni offered Ash a seat in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the desk. Accepting the offered seat, Ash settled into the overly padded chair, crossing his arms as he leaned back. “There’s quite a buzz on all the news networks over the incident at that dam,” Giovanni observed causally, half turning his chair, “They say the local authorities are viewing it as gang related. They say the five dead bodies were all dressed identically, their clothing resembling that of the notorious Team Aqua. The buzz is that a rogue guard was responsible.”

“That’s what I’ve been hearing.”

“Is that what you saw?”

“I saw a man dressed in a guard’s uniform gun down five males dressed in Aqua garb, and injure a sixth in the shoulder,” Ash recalled matter-of-factly, “the roof offered quite a view despite the rather hard rain.”

“A sixth? The new made no mention of another victim,” Giovanni spoke, seeming to be talking as much to himself as to his guest.

“Any blood evidence was most likely washed away by the time the authorities arrived.”

“Any reason for letting him go?” Giovanni asked, receiving a shrug he pressed, “Ash we both know you’re a personal friend of this ‘guard’, we both know I had you tip him off. Now why did he let the last one go?”

“He wasn’t more than fourteen-”

“He’s still a solider in the ranks of our enemy,” Giovanni snapped, quickly swinging his chair back to face Ash directly.

Remaining calm in the face of his bosses increasing anger, Ash replied, “Sir, with all due respect, the objective was to escalate tensions between Aqua and Magma.”

“I was looking for conflict, not negotiable tension. Dead bodies give us conflict, not petty compassion.”

Beginning to feel his cool crumble, Ash breathed a calming breath, “Sir, I did as ordered. What Brock did was out of my hands.”

Grunting his obvious displeasure, Giovanni allowed the conversation to stall, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. He knew his ambition knew no patience, but he also knew he couldn’t directly control the action of the two parties he hoped to guide towards conflict. “So what next?”

Ash was taken aback by the question, “Didn’t you have a plan in place.”

“It’s not important. I want to know what you’d do.”

“Well… Knowing the local Aqua commander, I’d foresee an over zealous reaction. So… tip off Magma again to catch Aqua off guard?”

“It’s an idea,” Giovanni agreed, “But I want to see how things play out before interfering again. I have a feeling your hunch about the Aqua commander is correct, and I have a feeling Magma knows too.”

Pondering the scenario for a moment, Ash shrugged. “That’s all for now, Ash. But be ready, you may have to head out soon,” Giovanni warned, watching Ash rise and gather his coat, “And Ash.”

“Yeah?” Ash paused halfway through the door.

“Don’t get too attached to either side. This could get pretty ugly.”

Closing the door, Ash strode back to the elevator. Once inside he glared at his reflection. “I won't, Giovanni. Neither side is worth the attachment.”

To be continued…