We’re all in on this one.

Ken’s had this tight, closed off look on his face since Birman put the tape in and the first images of children—poor quality shots taken in the dark of gussied up kids stepping into nondescript black sedans—flickered on the screen to Persia’s narrative. The photographs have little to do with our mission, since we’re not killing them, but if his purpose was to seriously piss Ken off and make me twitchy then Persia has succeeded.

Yohji looks exactly the same as he has all week. Tonight the only exception is that he’s pushed his sunglasses down his nose so he can flirt more easily with Birman before she leaves. She’s fighting off an amused smile at the same time she’s fending him off with her flat repartee, and I’m working on ignoring them both as I flip through the contents of the manila envelope labeled ‘DATA’. I’ve skimmed quickly through the entire packet of information twice before I wait for an opening in Kudou and Birman’s banter.

“Birman, are there no photographs of the targets?”

She looks relieved to have an excuse to ignore Yohji for awhile as she ducks the arm he’s trying to drape over her shoulders and takes a step closer to the sofa. I know what her answer is going to be before she opens her mouth, and I don’t like it.

“No one knows what they look like. All we have are names and a location.”

At this, Ken pulls himself away from the doorframe and leans over the back of the couch behind me, looking at the pictures that aren’t there. He takes the packet from me when I hand it up to him and begins to flick through it idly and without any real purpose. I don’t say anything else because I know what this means. Among other things, a mission this vague means late nights on the computer combing for any scrap of information Kritiker might have missed. It means having to hold off and hope there’s more information at the target site. It means potentially going in blind and relying on luck. I hate missions like this.
That isn’t to say that I like any of our missions, because I don’t. It’s all relative.

“Sorry Bombay, but that’s all Kritiker has on these guys.” Gee, I didn’t realize I looked so forlorn as to have Birman apologizing to me. “If anything comes up we’ll let you know. Good luck, Weiss.” With an intentionally curt nod to Yohji, she clicks her way up the spiral staircase and lets herself out of the shop. As soon as the small bang of the door closing reaches the basement, Ken drops the folder onto the couch beside me.

“It’s disgusting.” He says. I glance up at him to see that he’s livid. An angry Ken is an uncommon occurrence, and it startles me out of my slightly pessimistic pre-planning planning stage. Maps of less-than-legal internet back alleys are pushed toward the bottom of my skull as Ken looks to prepare for a miniature tirade.

“Well they’re going to be stopped, Ken-kun.” I offer, trying to be consoling. “We’ll make sure of that. They’re not getting away with this.”

It’s hard to tell through the sunglasses he’s shoved back over his eyes, but I think Yohji’s giving me a weird look. I smile placatingly at him and stand up, reaching to take the packet from Ken. He looks startled to realize he’s holding the papers in a stranglehold and he lets go so suddenly I’m surprised I don’t drop them. I smile at him and smooth out the creases without really thinking about it.

“Don’t worry, Ken-kun!” I say, without quite knowing what he shouldn’t be worrying about. I just don’t like to see him worry. I don’t like to see anyone worry. I turn from him, set the papers next to the basement computer, and get to work.





I got this out fast. There are several reasons for this. One is that starting Sunday I’ll be leaving for three weeks. Theoretically I have a few days of down-time at home in between, but I don’t believe them when they tell me that. The second reason is that I just acquired my copy of the new Harry Potter book, and once I open it nothing will get done until I finish it. Nothing. I probably won’t even sleep.

The last reason, of course, is to make vermachtnis look bad. (Just kidding!)

Anyway, I felt like skipping the actual Persia mission log whatever thing. I hope you don’t mind. The thought of it made me nervous for some reason, and I’m not even sure we’ve decided what’s going on. And with that, my useless crap is over.