D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Snippets ❯ Cassandra ( Chapter 15 )

Cassandra (Retake):

 

Disclaimer: I don't own DN Angel.

 

Warnings:

 

A/N: Terminology, as this is a sci-fi fic.
Glider: Looks like a motorbike without wheels, the bottom a triangular shaped flat base to help it move quickly. Their popularity has declined due to the arrival of Cantor Enterprises' Scythe model, and now they are only used by traffic cops on duty.
Droplet: An enclosed vehicle, the equivalent of a car in today's world. It is sturdily built and easy to control, which makes it popular amongst most sectors in Algidus.
Scythe (taken from a game on Cartoon Network and yes, I know I'm sad): A new prototype that wasn't supposed to make it onto the market. However, the government forced Cantor Enterprises to release the machines early and as a result, they are highly unstable. They are much faster than Droplets and hence it is easier to crash on them. These are highly popular amongst young adults and there are many instances of gangs and are used as race vehicles.

 

The folder landed on the table with an audible thump, causing its recipient to cringe in dismay. Detective Dark Mousy of the Cassandra(1) Department for the Criminal Investigation Bureau of Algidus(2) propped his feet up on the table and looked up insolently at his superior, Chief Crane. “What's this?”

 

“A case,” the other replied just as laconically. Dark was about to protest at such a vague response, but the look in the other's icy grey eyes silenced him. Even the draughty office's temperature was warm compared to the look in the other's eyes before he straightened up and walked out. “I expect to hear your plans this afternoon at two, Mousy,” was all that the man said. Dark sighed; what more could he expect from someone who was raised in Algidus, the coldest inhabitable region known to Man?

 

Flipping the manila folder open, he raised an eyebrow at the neatly typed mission orders, a stark contrast from the usually hastily thrown together papers that required fifteen minutes to decipher. However, there was very little information to go on, and he only had a maximum of two months to complete it before the `higher authorities' i.e. the Pandora Department stepped in. Unfortunately, Pandora was rather aptly named and infamous for their easy acceptance of bribes. Sometimes, Dark wondered what their founder would say if he were still alive to see the thriving corruption in his brainchild. Returning his gaze to the photographs and papers in the pile, he noticed a couple of familiar faces, a chill rushing up his spine at the memories their smirking visages brought back. The final page was a summary and Dark looked it over, nodding to himself. Luckily for him, he'd already formulated a plan by the time he'd finished reading the briefing. Unluckily, it required an infiltration and he knew exactly who would be cast into that role all too well. It was his assignment, after all.

 

Zephyr glided in at around eleven thirty, dressed impeccably as always. “Morning, Dark,” he softly said, smiling and revealing a mouth full of white, even teeth. “How are you today?” His eyes lingered on the manila folder in front of the scowling detective, moving upwards to rest on the glowing computer screen.

 

Dark smiled back. He liked Zephyr; he was a good kid, just a little dreamy at times. “I'm fine, thanks. You?”

 

The other man smiled shyly. “I'm good, thank you. Pure black coffee, right?” Dark nodded, grateful for the refilling of his mug. At least it meant that he wouldn't have leave his now decently-warm office and freeze himself to death in the large room that served as the Cassandra Headquarters just to get a cup of hot coffee.

 

“Yeah, thanks Zeph.” The other nodded and poured the coffee out before leaving, the soft smile still on his face. Dark meanwhile sighed and returned to his task. At least he knew more than most about the Seven Sins gang; he'd been part of them once upon a time. He was about to settle back down to work when the man looked in again, shyly telling him that Crane had called a conference about the case. Apparently some new information had just come up from Cerberus(3), saying that the case level had been upped and now, instead of having two months to investigate before Pandora interfered, Cassandra would only have one and a half. Looks like whatever they found is pretty explosive, the detective thought wryly as he picked up his papers and headed for the dingy conference room.

 

He shivered his way through the corridors, the battered black overcoat no match for Algidus' often subzero climates. Finally he arrived at the conference room, nodding at the rest of his colleagues as they all filed in. The computer was already whirring, the screen down and reading, “Mission 414A, Ranking: Highly Confidential” in bold, red letters. Everyone smiled a little; Crane's presentations were always brief and to the point, as shown by the simple title slide.

 

“Good morning, Cassandra,” the man began. His eyes swept over the entire room as though he were a teacher, making sure that all his students were paying attention before beginning to speak. “Zade, sit up,” he ordered Dark's partner sharply. The man straightened up, a spark of irritation in his cat green eyes shining through. The purple-haired detective grinned and nudged him, wincing as he was given a sharp rap on the head with one of the chief's numerous flying paper fans. “Pay attention!” The older man ordered.

 

“Seven Sins are in the radar again,” the man began and everyone snorted. The gang practically controlled the whole of Algidus, but of course they had been well out of the reach of the law, what with their bottomless wallets and blackmailing schemes. The Bureau wrote up numerous reports stating all their heinous crimes and illegal activities and were forever talking about raiding their many, well-known hideouts, but of course nothing ever happened. “They're running a human trafficking ring.” Impatient silence greeted this announcement and Dark seized the opportunity to make a sarcastic comment. He knew they had been selling people for longer than he'd lived; he remembered a couple of races were some of the better slaves were put up as race prizes.

 

“However, we cannot just raid their hideouts due to a lack of resources and evidence, so we will infiltrate their organization instead. Luckily for us, they are planning on having a race three weeks from now, so hopefully we'll be able to find out something more about this and hopefully round up the leaders of the ring.” Everyone nodded. “As written on the memos you received, Detective Mousy will be in charge of this one. Mousy,” he said, turning to Dark. “Pick out five others you want to help you in the practical aspects of this assignment.” The amethyst-eyed man quickly looked over the group, a list already composing itself in his head. He recited the names and to his immense surprise, he saw Crane nod in satisfaction. It was rare that the older man ever showed any sign of approval. “I want your plans by two this afternoon. Dismissed.” Everyone filed out once more, returning to their respective workspaces to continue.

 

Orion walked in just before lunch, a stack of papers in one hand, face serene as usual. “God,” Dark scoffed, “You're like the bloody Buddha or something. What's with you, man?”

 

“Here's some more information on the main suspects,” the other murmured respectfully, ignoring his superior's comment. “And there is nothing, `with me',” he added just as calmly. Dark scanned the information quickly, noting that Carrion and Jin seemed to be in charge of this racket as usual. He sighed at the information attached; he knew a lot more about Seven Sins than anyone could ever hope to, at least without joining the gang like he had done. His hand brushed over the old tattoo on his inner thigh, tracing the figure through his pants. “Ori.”

 

“Yes?” If the other hated the nickname like rumour had it, he didn't show it.

 

“Distribute this to the other three members of the team, will you please? Make sure Teirn gets it most of all; he might have to come infiltrate with me.” The brown-haired man bowed and acquiesced, leaving Dark to brood on his plans once more.

 

Two o'clock:

 

“Here.” Dark tossed his notes down onto the table in front of Crane, knowing that his boss would be unable to decipher them. “That's my proposal.”

 

“Chicken scratch,” the other man said shortly in return, pushing the stack back. “If that's how you want to handle things, then don't blame me if you all get caught and shot.”

 

Dark laughed bitterly. “We won't get shot; just sold,” he replied. He sat down, leaning over his notes and reading the symbols just as easily as if they had been in plain English and neat. “Right, we'll infiltrate the place and cause a bit of a furor. The thing with Scythe races is that there are rarely any newcomers actually in the races, and we all know that the police are too scared to try going up against guys who have been riding the tracks since they were ten. So, we'll put an agent up onto the field and then whilst everyone's watching the race, we can get someone else to hack into the computer and nick everything. They're bound to have a laptop there at least; they'll guard their data with their lives.”

 

“Bull.”

 

“I'm sorry, sir?” Dark looked up and amethyst met steel grey.

 

“I said it's bullsh-t. And isn't it just a little risky sticking someone on a track? Who on earth could possibly care about a newbie? They'll eat him-or her-alive.” Dark sighed.

 

“That's the quickest way to do things, sir,” he blandly replied. “We can't spend time talking with them, as it's highly unlikely that Seven Sins will let any of their grunts know about their plans. This way, we'll definitely get the information, even if it is a bit riskier.”

 

“A bit? Mousy, you're putting two people's lives on the line! All it takes is just one false move and they'll have all of us so fast, we won't even have time to say hello to Pandora before we're all carted off to the slave markets!”

 

“That's why I'm going to race.”

 

The older man stopped, caught off balance by the deadly serious tone in the other's voice. He leaned back in his chair before laughing. “Come on, Dark, that's a good joke, but honestly.” At the grave look on the other's face, he leaned forward. “Listen, Mousy, you can't just waltz in there. Everyone knows your head has a bounty of twenty million bucks on it as soon as you enter Sins territory. You're notorious among them for leaving; they'll do anything to noose you!”

 

Dark shrugged nonchalantly. “I'm famous for getting away. I'll live.” Crane stared for a moment longer before shrugging.

 

“Just remember, Mousy,” he told the other, “it's your life on the line. I won't stop you, but don't think that I'm happy with your plan.” The detective sighed and looked his superior in the eyes, determination burning in them.

 

“Yeah, I didn't think you would be. But it's the only surefire way to nail these guys without calling Pandora in. We could try to pry information out of one of the top guys, but that wouldn't work as they're all trained to withstand pain and torture.” There was silence on Crane's behalf and Dark plunged on desperately. “These guys are organized, sir. Just because they haven't met with any challenges for a while doesn't mean that they're not prepared for them.” The other man merely bowed his head and gestured towards the door, a dismissal. Knowing that whatever he said would not strengthen his case in any way, Dark left to prepare.

 

1930 hours:

 

He strapped on his helmet, tingling with the extra adrenaline already pumping through him. This was the first time in five years since he'd raced in a Scythe, a daunting thought to anyone else but Dark. He looked around the empty training stadium and breathed in deeply, calming himself before stepping into the sleek little racing vehicle. He strapped himself in and then placed both hands on the wheel, feeling the excitement of being able to drive a Scythe once more. Many became hooked on the speed and the risk of driving such a sensitive vehicle, where unnecessary force could easily cause the delicate machine to veer wildly off course. He stared at the glowing controls and counted down in his head, slamming down on the accelerator with all his might when he reached `0'. The Scythe fairly flew down the course and the detective gasped. Apparently, he had forgotten exactly how fast these machines could go as he saw the speedometer needle go from 0 to 230 in just under a minute. He reached the hairpin turn and twisted the wheel, praying that the Scythe would not crash.

 

Three minutes later, Dark leaned back in his seat and exhaled slowly, trying to control his breathing. Thankfully, he still remembered how to control one and the fact that he had managed to stay alive was proof that Kaitou Dark had not lost much of his touch with Scythes. Now, he could only hope that he would be able to avoid all the dirty tricks that inevitably took place on the racetrack. After all, no Racer liked to lose, and the Sin Racers were no exception.

 

Time flew by much like the scenery in a Scythe did, with Dark training in the Dirge model intensively. Zade and Crane both complained that he spent more time on the training track than he did in the office, but they both knew that if they wanted the detective to survive and look reasonably professional in front of trained Racers, he would have to do that much work and more. The detective himself was starting to feel the strain of training so hard; his body ached from the many bruises he'd acquired from being tossed around in the Scythe, whilst there was a large friction burn on his upper torso where the safety straps had cut into him. Unfortunately, he knew that speed was only part of the game and that unless he could survive all the tricks that inevitably occurred on the racetrack, he would be dead before he'd finished the first lap.

 

Two weeks later, Thursday 1924 hours:

 

Teirn blew out a stream of smoke, green and gold-flecked eyes following the progress of the Dirge model. He was no expert, but even he could say that Dark was turning into a darn good Scythe pilot and he'd almost willingly swear that the other must have been trained as a Racer at some point of his life. The vehicle soared over the ramp and twisted in mid-air, landing with a gentle thud on the hard grey tarmac. The machine shot past him again, now on its tenth and final lap, although it was little more than a blur to the man. His mind turned to the mission, now little more than 24 hours away. He was going to be infiltrating the arena as well, but as a spectator of course. The lean man shut his eyes and took another drag of his cigarette, going over the logistics but not finishing them as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Coughing and spluttering, he glared up at Dark, who was still wearing his helmet and Racer outfit. “Sh— man, you trying to drive me into an early grave?” he cursed. His partner shrugged.

 

“Maybe. No one lives forever.” Zade caught the pensive tone in Dark's voice and moved over on the narrow bench.

 

“Siddown, Dark. You worried or something?”

 

Dark shrugged and took the helmet off, hair blowing in the freezing winds that swept Algidus at night. “Yeah, about you,” he shot back in a half-hearted attempt to conceal his feelings. Zade shrugged.

 

“You want to go get some coffee? It'll beat sitting in this godforsaken training arena.”

 

“Nah,” the other easily replied. “I'm going to stay here and train some more.” Now Zade was worried.

 

“Hey, run yourself ragged if you want, but it won't help any of the kids being trafficked if you join them in the pens tomorrow.” With those words, he stood up and left the other man to his thoughts.

 

Friday night, 1929 hours:

 

“Well well,” the obnoxious announcer boomed. “It looks like we've got someone new here!” The crowd booed and hissed, all bent on intimidating this new opponent. Daisuke trembled from his vantage point, as he was closest to the door and dressed in nothing but a pair of ragged shorts. His eyes looked at the lone figure in the spotlight, its head bowed down as though submitting to the taunts and jeers of the announcer. “What do you call yourself then, brat?”

 

Dark was annoyed by this man's attitude. It was clear that he had no high standing in the Sins and was therefore trying to bully him. He kept his head lowered in order to see as little of the man's face as possible, but when he asked for his name, Dark could not but make a defiant comment. “First off, bugger,” he said loudly into the microphone, “I'm of a higher standing than you are for sure. So don't push your luck. Secondly, I don't answer your questions; I only answer to the head honchos up there.” He looked up defiantly at the three men sitting on the podium and hid a smirk. “I only answer Carrion, Carcass and Corpse's questions.” He smiled at the rage on the announcer's face and continued, rebutting all the other man's jeers and ending the talk with a shuriken, which grazed the corner of the arrogant man's right eye. In the end, he knew that he'd made a good impression on the `Big Three'.

 

He watched for the flag, noting that he was in between Greed and Pride's Racers. He glanced up once more at the tiny redhead in the cage; the prize. The white and black checkered flag came down with startling speed and he jammed down on the gas pedal, tearing down the track along with the other seven Scythes.

 

The first lap went quite smoothly, Gluttony and Wrath taking the lead with the rest clustered behind them. The crowd roared, roared so loudly that Dark could hear them even through his helmet and Scythe. Suddenly the ground shook and he hastily moved to the right, narrowly avoiding the now-wildly careening Sloth Scythe. He winced as the machine crashed into the unyielding steel wall, going up in flames and instantly killing the Racer within. Now that's why I don't want to crash, he thought with a sort of grim humour.

 

Daisuke shut his eyes, unwilling to watch the race. He hoped that the unknown Racer would win; he seemed to be the only one with any sort of compassion. Then again, if he was even here, it didn't say much for his personality. A gust of wind blew past him and he shivered once more, squeezing his eyes shut. Then a metallic `click' sounded in his ears and before he could react, he was being dragged away by a pair of strong but gentle arms. “C'mon,” he heard a voice say, “before we're seen.” Daisuke opened his mouth to warn the man about the alarm device in his collar, but at that moment it emitted a shrill noise and the whole stadium turned towards the cage. The redhead heard his rescuer mumble a curse and then all went dark.

 

Zade, you f---ing moron! Dark cursed silently as he noticed the audience turning towards where the prize was displayed. He caught a flash of red before his partner disappeared and grimaced before jamming on the pedals. He now had only one objective: to get out of this arena before someone realised that he might well be in cahoots with the other.

 

A bolt of light flashed past his Scythe as the alarm systems went off, and Dark swore. It appeared that the Sin Racers had caught on and now they were out to get him. He sped towards ramp, smoothly flying over the explosives pit and the wall, although judging from the noise and the way the Scythe plunged, he'd just lost a tailfin. Come on, he silently urged the vehicle. Come on…get me out of here before you explode! He crashed through the doors and landed on the ground in the cold, cold snow before the whole machine went up in flames. His head snapped back from the impact and hit something hard. Dark saw stars, and them darkness.

 

Daisuke carefully pushed the door of the room open and peeked in, unsure of what to expect. After Zade had explained that his friend was supposed to create some sort of diversion which was thwarted by the alarm system, the redhead had insisted on seeing the other detective as soon as possible. He wanted to see what kind of person could be that good a Racer and still not be snapped up by the Seven Sins.

 

“Yo,” the man greeted him. Daisuke immediately blinked, caught off guard. “I was wondering when you'd come in. Zade keeps talking about you, I swear I'll kill him if he says your name one more time…” He stopped short. “Sorry,” he apologized. Daisuke blushed. “I'm Dark Mousy. You're Daisuke Niwa, right?” He held out his hand, grasping the redhead's smaller one firmly.

 

“Yeah,” Daisuke replied, blushing again when Dark gave him a heartbreaking smile.

 

“Better now?” The crimson-eyed man nodded slowly, shaking off bad memories that threatened to crowd in. Desperate to avoid thinking about his captors and what they had done to him, Daisuke blurted out the first question that came to mind.

 

“How come you're so good at racing, but you're not famous or anything?” Dark grinned and leaned over to pat the chair.

 

“Sit down, you want to hear the whole thing today or in bits?” Daisuke eagerly answered, “All,” and the detective nodded. “All right then, but you have to tell me when you're tired. You're probably still a little off from the cold and all, anyway.” The redhead nodded and sat down, staring at Dark all the while.

 

“Well, I was trained as a Racer, my dad was one, see. Except that he was a Racer for the Sins…sorry, does that make you too uncomfortable?” He waited for Daisuke to shake his head before continuing. “So I trained to be a Racer for the same team-Team Greed. At ten, they decided that I was good enough to compete with the big boys and they put me up. I came in second, and then Greed knew that they had something good. I mean, I'm not bragging, but I was pretty good back then. So I just raced for another nine years and all, coming in top for most of them. When I didn't do so well they just locked me up in one of their tiny cells for a whole day-I'm claustrophobic, see-and I…became more motivated.” Dark smiled carefully at the other to lessen the impact of his words, knowing that the redhead would have experienced the cells at least once. “Then when I turned nineteen, I contracted Dokugen…the virus, you know?” Daisuke nodded, eager for the story to continue. “Sins threw me out right away and I was pretty much left to die. Then some scout for the government found me and after fixing me up and getting my life story, they put me here. Guess they wanted to have someone who knew the ins and outs of the Sins in the department, even if he was stationed in Algidus.” Daisuke nodded, surprised at the matter-of-fact way Dark narrated everything.

 

“Don't you…um…” Daisuke was afraid that he'd be prying too much, but he did want to know if Dark had any way of laying fears to rest. He still woke up screaming every night, dreaming that he was lying in his cot in the Sins hideout and breathing in alcohol and smoke.

 

Amethyst met ruby and Daisuke swallowed, hoping that he wasn't bothering Dark too much. The man might be nice, but he could still find the redhead's presence taxing, couldn't he? As though reading his thoughts, Dark waved his hand. “It's all right, I don't need to be treated like an invalid. You want some help with the nightmares?”

 

Daisuke stared. Was Dark a magician, or a mind-reader, or something equally amazing as well? The man had been a Racer and left Greed without dying, so maybe he was something out of a children's fairytale too. The purple-haired man grinned. “What?” He asked innocently, “I'm a detective. It's my job to find the things that people don't say!” The redhead laughed a little at the confident way Dark said it.

“Um…sure,” Daisuke carefully replied. “I'd like to...” he swallowed, “figure out some of the nightmares.” Dark nodded.

 

“It's simple. You can stay over with me when I'm discharged. I'll keep you busy with chores and I'll talk to you and keep you generally busy.”

 

Daisuke stared. “What?” He couldn't believe that someone who'd been a complete stranger to him until a few hours ago was so generous and trusting.

 

“Aren't you worried that I'll steal something?” Dark gave him a `don't-be-stupid' look.

 

“Not really, you don't seem like the type of person to do so.”

 

“But—“

 

“Yeah, yeah, well, there's nothing to nick in the house anyway. Not unless you like copper pots.” The man grinned. “How about it then?”

 

Daisuke nodded slowly. It wasn't as though he had any better place to go to, anyway. At his reluctant answer, Dark beamed. “All right then,” he laughed. “It's a deal. Now, since I've told you my life story, how about you tell me yours?”

 

The redhead shrugged and looked down at his feet. “I've been there since I was six,” he shortly said. “My parents sold me for $59000.” Dark didn't say anything; he merely held out his arms like a child, waiting for a hug. Daisuke slowly leaned forward and closed his eyes, hugging the man back.

 

Two weeks later:

 

Dark was horrified, to say the least. Not because his bed had been re-decorated to sport handcuffs on the bedposts, and not because of the sudden increase in his supplies of lube. He was horrified because his new `roommate' wanted to pay rent…with his body. As a result, Daisuke was now sashaying towards him in nothing but a terrycloth bathrobe. The detective felt sick to his stomach and hastily backed away from the man in front of him, swallowing hard. “Daisuke, what are you doing?” he asked calmly.

 

“It's okay,” the other said quickly, although his eyes told a different story. “It's…it's just a thank you. For rescuing me and everything.” Dark yelped and batted the redhead's hands away from his shirt quickly.

 

“Who said you had to pay rent?” he demanded. “Did I? If I did, you'll have to remind me because I don't remember!” He flinched at the frightened look on Daisuke's face. However, the other remained stubborn and moved forward, nibbling on Dark's neck and placing one of the older man's hands on his bare chest.

 

“Please…Master…I have to pay you back somehow…”

 

Dark moved away at the word `Master', exhaling quickly. “Daisuke,” he asked carefully, “were you…?” The other nodded and dropped his gaze, disappointment and sadness evident in his eyes.

 

“I'm sorry I don't please you, Ma—“

 

“I'm not your master,” Dark shortly said. “Go put on something decent and then we'll talk about this later.” He moved forward to quickly hug the other. “Hurry up now, it's cold,” he said. The redhead swallowed and quickly ran for the room, leaving a frowning detective behind. Dark and Daisuke spent that night talking, the elder trying to convince the other that he was welcome to stay as long as he helped with the housework and other things.

 

It had been two weeks since `the incident', but Dark was still uncomfortable. That night had made him sit up ad take notice of Daisuke in a very physical manner, but it had also made him rethink his treatment of the redhead. Indeed, his `roommate' was filling out quite nicely and the detective had caught himself staring that the other more than once, wondering what it would be like to touch the other. Groaning, Dark rested his head on the keyboard, ignoring the jumble of letters that sprang up on his screen and the look that Zade gave him.

 

“I'm home,” he called into the apartment carefully. As usual, Daisuke was stretched out on the easy chair, dressed in one of his much-loved oversized sweaters and a loose pair of cargos, both thick and warm. Dark swallowed hard, feeling a wave of want rush over him and he stared at the redhead for a moment longer. Ironically, the gesture was lost on Daisuke.

 

Dark glared out at the sky, shivering slightly from his place next to the window. His fingers clutched spasmodically at the paperback novel in his hands as he curled up more tightly on the sofa. A sudden weight draped itself across his shoulders and the detective looked up, unsure of what to say when he looked into warm crimson eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbled out before staring at the page again. A hand reached out and plucked the book from his hands, turning it around and then depositing the object back into his lap. Dark blushed as he realized that he had been holding the book upside down for the past hour or so since dinner. “Thanks,” he whispered.

 

Daisuke stared at him for a moment longer before slowly straightening up again, already looking back at his warm chair. The detective hesitated for a moment before nodding decisively; he would have to sort this out sooner or later. “Daisuke.” The other whipped around and Dark patted the space next to himself on the couch. “Sit here. It's warmer. And we can share the blanket.” There was an awkward silence and the redhead slowly retrieved his book, hesitantly sitting down next to the other. To his surprise, the detective draped the blanket over both of them before turning back to his own book.

 

It was one o' clock in the morning, but neither man wanted to sleep yet. Daisuke was surprised at how Dark was behaving; first the man had distanced himself after his…acts and made it clear that he wasn't interested in sexual pleasures. Now, he was sharing a blanket with him and sharing the sofa with him? It didn't make sense. Swallowing hard and half-hoping that the purple-haired man was asleep, he gently nudged the other's ribs. “Dark?”

 

“Yes?” D-mn, Daisuke thought.

 

“Uh…why are you doing this?”

 

“Because I feel like it.”

 

“Oh.” With nothing more to say, the redhead quietly leaned against the other, pretending for just a moment that he was in a solid relationship with the other, instead of one that was just about as stable as a rowboat. As he drifted off to sleep, his mind seemed to unlock itself and he dreamily thought, He's accepting me. He's trying to say that…that he doesn't care any more. The next morning, the thought was gone, departed on the frigid winds that swept across Algidus, but in its place was something new that neither man could place.

 

Cassandra: A prophetess who always spoke the truth, but was never believed. I used her name for the department because they are the most honest, but never believed due to the corruption going on in the upper echelons of CIBA.

Algidus: Latin for `cold'. I think.

Cerberus: The guard dog of the Underworld. I chose this to show that the people working in that department are lower ranking and do a lot of grunt work i.e. maintain the computer servers, keep hackers out etc.

 

I know that this story is more ambiguous than the others in this collection, as it's never really stated whether Dark and Daisuke get together properly or not, but I was going for that effect. Besides, you got your yaoi scene, didn't you? This is my first foray ever into anything remotely resembling sci-fi, so I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review for this one especially, as I'd really like to know what you thought of my first shot at this genre. Thanks, and see you at the review board!