InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Archangel ❯ The Clock Ticks On ( Chapter 9 )

AN: Oi! Here's chapter nine in all its spit-shined glory! And in saying that, I must give the highest accolades to the fabulous JazzyFay, who went over this chapter with a fine toothed comb and a ton of elbow grease to whip it into the beautifully polished chapter we now present to you. Jazzy, I salute you - twenty-one guns and all.

 

Also, I've known for a while that my summary for this story sucks big time, but I'm having a total brain fart over how to change it up and make it more appealing. I am beseeching you guys to help me out here; if you have any ideas please leave it in a review to let me know. I'll be sure to credit anyone who gives an idea I use. It can be like a contest, only the prize will be the joy of knowing you helped out a poor, creatively stymied writer find a summary that does the story justice… 0_0'(yes, these are my puppy eyes…I'm sorry to have to take such drastic measures, but I'm getting desperate, you see.)

 

Thanks to all of you for reading, and don't forget to review.

 

-UC

 

 

The Archangel

 

 

By: Undecidedlycertain

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

The Clock Ticks

 

 

23,000 feet over Washington D.C., Serenity Secured Airlines

Specialized Boeing 737, main cabin

Sunday, June 19th, 12:30 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

44 hours, 15 minutes until Archangel release

 

 

 

“Beginning decent now, gents. Hang on to your hats.”

 

 

“Aa. Thanks, Ginta.” Koga called up to the cockpit before taking his seat and motioning for his partner to do the same. The jets whirred loudly and the unpleasant feeling of decent swirled in the guts of both agents.

 

 

Inuyasha dropped heavily into his seat, leaning forward onto the thick marbled table bolted to the cabin floor between them. There was a nervous tension in the atmosphere, not that it was unexpected. This was one messed up game of extreme fetch Kaede had them on. With a frustrated growl, he began tugging at his ears as the pressure in the cabin started dropping.

 

 

Flying had never been high on his list of favorite things. Even with specialized cabins it was uncomfortable, more so for him than most it seemed. Maybe it was because he was hanyou. He tugged at the corner of one ear roughly, grimacing as Koga looked on amusedly.

 

 

“Shut up!” Inuyasha snapped irritably.

 

 

Koga threw his hands up defensively, but that damned annoying smirk was still there. “I didn't say anything.”

 

 

Inuyasha scowled, not really having anything to come back with. Koga chuckled softly under his breath, but waved his hands in a placating manner when the hanyou growled.

 

 

“I've been meaning to ask you,” Koga broached when his laughter had subsided. “Where did you get that rusted-ass letter opener?”

 

 

Inuyasha huffed and leaned back in his seat, his claws punching neat little holes in the leather upholstery when his ears popped again. “Crazy old geezer gave it to me. He lives at H.Q. apparently, in the back of a safe, of all things. Seemed pretty uppity about me keepin' it for some reason.” Mild irritation gave way to discomfort and he began jiggling his finger in his ear again.

 

 

“Oh! You mean Totosai!”

 

 

“How was I the only one who didn't know about him?” The hanyou grumped.

 

 

Koga shrugged. “I've been trying to get that old man to make me a sword for ages.”

 

 

 

“Eh? You mean he wouldn't?” Inuyasha perked, ears swiveling forward in interest.

 

 

“Hell, no. Said I was too irrepressible - irresponsible - irri - something.”

 

 

“Ha! He practically shoved one in my hands as soon as I walked in there.” He declined to mention that he actually pulled it out of its case before even realizing that the stale old fart was in there. “You must really suck. He called Tetsusaiga his masterpiece, too!”

 

 

“That piece of scrap iron? What are you bragging for, bastard? That just proves he's gone senile.”

 

 

“Why you - ”

 

 

The plane dropped suddenly, causing both young men to fly up out of their seats a few inches before it leveled out. A moment later the soft ping of the fasten safety belts sign filtered from the overhead console.

 

 

“Sorry `bout that!” Ginta called back from the cockpit. “Just an air pocket, nothing to worry about.”

 

 

“Oi!” Inuyasha groused while surreptitiously fastening the clasp of his restraint. “Watch where you're going up there.” He kicked one heel under his seat to be sure that his parachute was there. This, of course, was done in stealth, but the way Koga was smirking again let him know he was busted.

 

 

“Anyway,” Koga said, pulling a suitcase from under his seat and plopping it onto the table between them, deigning not to comment about the hanyou's paranoia. “I've got some crap for you.”

 

 

Inuyasha leaned forward eagerly, looking into the case with the air of a child on Christmas morning, clearly expecting some of Shippo's awesome goodies. His face fell; it was the same look given when the brightly wrapped boxes under the tree held underwear instead of toys.

 

 

“This is just a stupid badge and Agency ID. Security clearance…Code Red restriction reversals…What a rip!” The hanyou tucked the badge in his pocket and clipped the ID to his shirtfront, but only after grimacing at the horrible laminated picture. It was really unflattering - worse than his driver's license…Shippo probably did that on purpose, the little shit-head.

 

 

“What were you expecting?” Koga asked, a comical look on his face as he went over the official looking documents that detailed what was known about the Shikon.

 

 

“Something cooler, maybe.” He was pouting and didn't care. What happened to the spy gadgets? The explosives that looked like bubble gum, jackets that made the wearer invisible, and surveillance cameras that could fit on the head of a pin: the crap that made this job interesting, damn it all! Where was the good stuff? “Something that explodes or makes you disappear? Shippo didn't at least stick a camera in there?” he wheedled hopefully.

 

 

“Not even a normal one.”

 

 

“This reeks.” Inuyasha slammed his shoulders back against his seat, folding his arms petulantly. “He could have at least sent something.”

 

 

“Why?” Koga asked with a quirk of his dark brows. “It's not like we're going in to steal the thing.” His eyes traced along the lines on the paper in his hands a few moments longer before a paranoid tension seized him. He looked up slowly, meeting the clear gaze of the gruff hanyou across from him.

 

 

“We aren't going to have to steal it, are we?”

 

 

Inuyasha stared at the wolf blankly for a few moments, inwardly enjoying watching the tic that was worrying the corner of his left eye, before shrugging noncommittally and turning to look out the window. “Keh. Hell if I know. Kaede says `go get the jewel' and I go get the jewel. Doesn't much matter if these assholes want to hand it over willingly or not.”

 

 

“Maybe.” Koga agreed, a look of uneasiness still shadowing his face and the slump of his shoulders. “But it would make our job a hell of a lot easier if they do.”

 

 

8888888888888888

 

 

New York City,

Carrington Tower, Top Floor

Monday, June 19th, 8:05 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

36 Hours, 40 Minutes until Archangel Release

 

 

 

Kagome lay face down against the gritty carpet of the strangely empty and unfinished office she'd been hauled off to. She felt heavy: spent of emotion, and exhausted beyond measure.

 

 

They had her in a straight jacket, and she was somewhat ashamed to admit that she had completely freaked out when they had first strapped her in. It was unpleasant, being confined in such a way. She didn't understand how the use of such a horrible thing could even be considered humane; if a person wasn't crazy before being strapped into the constricting garment, they may well find themselves that way after being left in it a while.

 

 

With a groan and a careful amount of wiggling she managed to pull her knees under her prone form, pushing herself upright.

 

 

The hazy, waning light that filtered in through the windows told her that it was dusk, which meant that she had passed out at some point. Her arms hurt, shoulders aching fiercely from being pulled at such an uncomfortable angle for so long, and the buckles along her left side had dug uncomfortably into the soft flesh over her ribs.

 

 

“I see you are awake, Nightingale.”

 

 

Kagome jerked around with a gasp, nearly toppling over for her effort. On a dusty, sheet-draped desk that had been pushed against one of the freshly plastered walls crouched Naraku, red eyes gleaming like an animal's from under the cover of his pelt.

 

 

“Where are we?”

 

 

“Ah. Inquisitive this evening, aren't we?” He turned around the clock which read 36:38 in glaring red. “Well. I suppose I could grant you such a paltry request. We are on the top floor of the new Carrington Tower. Does that sate your curiosity, pretty little nightingale?”

 

 

Her mouth turned down in distaste at her pet name. It was revolting for him to act so familiarly with her.

 

 

“Why are we here? What are you going to do with me?”

 

 

 

“So many questions. You'd think I had you brought here by force…” He chuckled darkly at his own little joke.

 

 

“You're sick,” Kagome hissed, fighting against her bindings again. “Let me go.”

 

 

“Now why would I do that when I do so enjoy watching you squirm like that? If you were to cry, I might even find it arousing.”

 

 

He laughed again when her struggles immediately ceased.

 

 

And the worst thing about it was that she did want to cry. She really, really did, but she was not going to break for him.

 

 

Instead, she knelt there on the floor, quietly trying to gain control of her emotions. The grubby feel of her skin combined with the achieness in her body, which seemed to be intensifying, was making her completely miserable. “Can I at least wash my face? Maybe clean up a bit - I feel horrible.”

 

 

“Hm.” His voice sounded darkly interested, but he snapped his fingers a moment later and what ever it was that had come over him was dispelled in favor of his infuriating flippancy. “I suppose it's the least we could do.”

 

 

Someone scuttled across the dirty floor: Kagome didn't get a good look before the door closed behind the darkly swathed back with a snap. An empty soda can was kicked and the metallic skittering echoed down what must have been a long empty hallway.

 

 

So there were more than just the two of them? It was almost a comforting thought, knowing that she wasn't alone with him. But he'd said she was making her men nervous. Was it because of the weird glowing, or because of what they'd pumped in her arm?

 

 

No matter. It was time to start assessing her situation. They would have to undo her restraints to let her wash. It was time to start looking for a way out.

 

 

888888888

 

 

Washington DC, Central Security Vaults

Seven floors beneath the Pentagon

Sunday, June 19, 1:45 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

42 hours until Archangel release

 

 

 

A distrusting looking middle-aged woman led them swiftly through a labyrinth of halls, tension radiating off her in tangible waves. She was the stiff necked sort, with a Spartan hairstyle and an sharply cut business suit in a gaudy shade of military blue that screamed `Look at me! I'm important!'

 

 

Inuyasha cast Koga an inquisitive glance, but the wolf simply shrugged with a look that said he was just as lost. There were people scurrying every which way, darting in and out of doorways like lab mice looking for the cheese at the end of the maze. Passing, stiff-necked nods were all they got from the few that actually took notice of the strangers being escorted into the bowels of the building. He'd have thought at least an air of curiosity would have been customary, this wasn't exactly on the tour docket, but everyone seemed too busy to really care about anything other than their own to do list.

 

 

Poor fools. They probably had no concept of what was actually going on around them; most were too busy running the rat race to even open their eyes fully.

 

 

The woman, Ms. Blue Suit, as Inuyasha's subconscious had taken the liberty of dubbing her, took a sharp right down a stinted corridor. Her stiffly starched navy skirt remained unnaturally in place, unmoving as cardboard despite the jerkiness of her movements. There was a bland set of commercial grade elevator doors at the end, which opened soundlessly when she swiped a security card and punched in an access code. They rode down twelve more floors in complete silence.

 

 

They had to be nearing a hundred feet below surface level now. It was a fleeting thought, but, Inuyasha realized with a grim press of his lips, not one with out merit. Being so far underground meant there were fewer emergency exits should the need arise for a quick escape.

 

 

 

Inuyasha was getting irritated by the time the carriage bumped to a stop on sublevel nineteen. Before either youkai had a chance to acclimate to the odd, suppressive feeling that saturated the air and pressed in upon them the moment they stepped off the elevator, they found themselves being herded down the corridor like a dirty secret. Inuyasha felt the urge to express his feelings regarding Ms. Blue Suit's brisk, cold-shouldered behavior in same manner in which he expressed his feelings for cabbies that cut him off during rush hour.

 

 

Luckily his rant was stymied by their arrival in front of an impressive set of reinforced steel doors, complete with cross bars and a lattice work of overlapping red beams. It would have been a good one though, had he gotten the chance to really work himself into a good tirade, and the acoustics in the hall would have made it all the better. The echo would have made his angry voice (which was actually only slightly louder and more irritated than his normal voice) big and booming, like the voice of the Wizard from The Wizard of OZ. The sudden urge seized him to shout out `I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL OZ'. He shook his head at the inane thought, deciding that he was definitely going soft. From now on, he was picking the movies for Friday night movie fest with Kagome and Sess - and they were all going to have the words bloody, fist, or sword somewhere in the title.

 

 

“This is Security Vault Fifteen.” Ms. Blue Suit informed them in a reluctant tone of voice, clearly apprehensive about the proceedings.

 

 

“Lets get on with it all ready,” Inuyasha groused, fearing that she was about to break into a lecture better left for the tourists. They weren't fools or ruffians hired for transport. Inuyasha understood, probably better than she did, the seriousness of the matter.

 

 

The woman's frown deepened, her lips compressed into a firm, white line as she turned to open the access panel along the wall. Koga was smirking at her back. Inuyasha reigned in the urge to curse in irritation.

 

 

Seven ominously loud metallic clangs rang mutedly from within the heavy door, then came the hiss of an air pressure lock releasing…all before any of the outward security came down. Inuyasha swallowed back his personal commentary as the cross work of iron bars scissoring over the door retracted with a synchronized snick and the lasers flickered, then went cold. Still, he couldn't quite stop the “Finally” from slipping through his lips when the doors slid open.

 

 

“This way please, gentlemen.” Ms. blue suit strode through the doors stiffly, an irritating hauteur snapping about her like cords of barbwire, set to cut anyone who got too close.

 

 

Koga mock-bowed, holding out his hand with an exaggerated look of fake congeniality pasted on his face. Inuyasha bonked him on the head with a closed fist in passing, but his smirk was already in place.

 

 

They passed through a long door-less hallway with gleaming stainless steel walls, seamless in construction. Tiny round slotted holes, barely the size of a man's palm, were lined up about every two feet just above the baseboards.

 

 

The vents blew a constant, shuttered stream of machine-cooled air over Inuyasha's pant legs, making the thick material of his jeans alternately slick to his calves and scrape across the top of his shoes with an annoying swish. He was actually starting to get pissed at the sheer amount of overkill here when the hall ended at a second vault-like door. Four armed guards stood like statues in rank and file on either side, neither looking at nor acknowledging the trio as they approached.

 

 

`Keh. Maybe they are statues,' Inuyasha thought. They were standing more stiffly than should have been humanly possible. He almost pitied them: they probably had the most boring-ass job on the planet.

 

 

Koga busied himself pulling faces at one of the guards like one of those maddening, over-enthusiastic tourists at Buckingham Palace, while Ms. Blue Suit began yet another ridiculously long sequence of procedures to open the second door.

 

 

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, letting out a long-suffering sigh. At least Koga had gotten bored of harassing the guards quick enough, content to stand impatiently behind the stuffy woman, tapping his foot loudly against the glossy black tiles of the floor.

 

 

There was something about her that was annoying the hell out of Inuyasha. Just from watching the harassed tension in her sharp movements as she worked the sensors, scans, and dials, he was willing to hazard a guess that she was likely as cuddly as a bag of frozen peas in the bedroom. Then again, her cats probably didn't mind so much. The thought was mildly amusing so he let her go on about her business with out comment.

 

 

The last dial spun, finally clinking into place with suprisingly little pomp. Unlike the first, this vault opened soundlessly, swinging inward with a slowness that attested to its sheer mass. At first there was only a blinding brightness that forced Inuyasha to shield his face with his forearm. His eyes adjusted to the glare quick enough, but he worried there was something wrong with his vision. The hanyou blinked his eyes firmly twice to confirm he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.

 

 

In the center of the immaculate white room within Vault 15, a barrier shimmered like an iridescent dome. Four monks were seated in full lotus position at each of the pivotal points around the bubble of spiritual energy, each swathed in traditional white robes punctuated by a vividly scarlet drape that hung from their necks like a physical expression of the burdens of sin and worldly distractions. Four bald heads were bowed in deep meditation, weathered and gleaming like oiled leather, and capped with foreheads so heavily lined with age that they almost seemed troubled even in the midst of their peaceful trance.

 

 

As the two agents stepped hesitantly through the doorway, an elderly woman draped in white seemed to melt right out of one of the walls, causing Inuyasha to start slightly at her sudden appearance. Ms. Blue Suit bowed formally to the woman before introducing them to her with tense, hurried words. She turned, disappearing back out into the foyer, even before the old woman had a chance to speak in turn.

 

 

“I take it you are here for the jewel?” The old woman's voice was calm and soothing, bearing no hint of distrust or disapproval. Her silver hair, a sign of age rather than heredity, was a striking contrast to the soft toffee of her gently lined face. “My name is Mara Ujinga, and I am the current guardian of the jewel of four souls.”

 

 

888888888888888

 

 

New York City,

Carrington Tower, Top Floor

Monday, June 19th, 8:15 pm

36 Hours, 30 Minutes until Archangel Release

 

 

The newly liberated buckles jangled irritating on their double-stitched, re-enforced tethers with every move Kagome made. She wanted to take the coat off completely. It was heavy and oppressive, and she couldn't help but worry over who had worn it before her and why. For now, having her arms free would have to do.

 

 

A shallow tin bucket was dropped carelessly on the floor in front of her, water sloshing over the side to splatter in dark drizzles across the ashy carpet. Kagome jerked back at the sudden action and the hostility from the woman who'd done it. It was the same woman she'd seen in Naraku's office right after she'd first been kidnapped. Dark garnet eyes glared down upon Kagome, sparing little more than a moment before she turned and swept gracefully from the room. She still held an air of elegance about her, even amongst all that filth, and it appeared that she wasn't taking too kindly to fetching water.

 

 

With a sigh, Kagome peeked over the rim to stare down into the dark reflective liquid. A filthy, frightened girl stared back, looking frail and entirely too young for the sight to feel familiar. Instead, it made her feel worse. The water was filthy, she conceded, or maybe it was the bowl that was dirty, distorting her image into something almost unrecognizable.

 

 

Kagome decided it didn't much matter as she splashed some of the water on her face with cupped hands. It was wet, and cool, and felt amazing against her clammy skin. She scrubbed at her skin with nothing but her hands and water until it was pink. Soap would have been better, but even just this made her feel less sticky and gross. They hadn't bothered to offer her a towel, and she refused to re-dirty her face by wiping it on her grubby sleeve, leaving the refreshing pearls of liquid to run freely down her neck to drip a steady rhythm from her chin to her chest.

 

 

 

“So what happens now?” Kagome watched Naraku where he stood, statue still, by the room's one window.

 

“Now? Now we wait, Nightingale.”

 

 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Kagome spat in disgust, irritated with his self-imposed familiarity. It was unsettling.

 

 

“There is a story, an old fable written by a writer called as Hans Christian Anderson. It is aptly called `The Nightingale'.” He spoke in even tones, the dark rasp of his voice sounding almost human for once.

 

 

Whatever she was expecting, classical literary references were not on the list. “I'm familiar with it,” She recited warily.

 

 

“You're an intelligent and learned woman. I would have been disappointed if you weren't,” he said with an almost inaudible chuckle. “Then I suppose you have your answer, then.”

 

 

“ `The Nightingale' was about materialism and the dangers of ignoring natural beauty…” Kagome reasoned with some confusion.

 

 

“The humble bird was said to have a hauntingly beautiful singing voice,” Naraku explained with out acknowledging the question in her words. “She sang the most beautiful song in all the world, and the emperor who had everything did not even know she was right there under his nose, until someone pointed her out.”

 

 

“Your point? I don't know any emperors, nor do I sing.”

 

 

He chuckled darkly, turning to look at her from the shielding hood of his pelt. Kagome tensed, trying not to cringe back or look away, and frowned deeply at her hands where they fisted in her lap.

 

 

“Oh, how sweetly naive you are, little nightingale.” He made a jerky motion, as if he was going to move toward her, but stopped himself. “I can practically taste your innocence.”

 

 

The innuendo was revolting, but Kagome resisted the urge to react. He was pushing her again, but he would find that she could push back just as hard when cornered. She would do her best to steer the conversation back into safer waters.

 

 

“So you've said before,” she told him flatly, twisting one of the unbuckled straps, the rasp of the rough fabric warming her skin in an almost painful way. “Yet no one seems to deem it necessary to enlighten me.”

 

 

There was a pause as Naraku studied her contemplatively. Kagome watched him with careful, wary eyes, contemplating her next move. If he refused to give her anything but pointless drivel, she would have to find a way to pry the information she needed from him.

 

 

“You are far too clever to have been played the fool for so long,” he said shrewdly after a moment.

 

 

“Obviously not,” Kagome replied sourly as a flicker of bitterness flared in her belly at the thought of being lied to for so long, sending the warmth of embarrassed anger rising hotly to her ears.

 

 

“Hn.” He turned to face her fully, pushing the leering baboon face off his head to rest against back of his shoulders.

 

 

Kagome gasped, jerking back out of reflex. He was shockingly human looking, with thick, dark hair, a face all cut and angled in the right ways, and a mouth that held surprisingly normal, even teeth. For some reason she'd been picturing him with a mouth full of razor blades and a head full of writhing snakes, though considering the state of his aura that wasn't that extreme of an assumption. His eyes were the only thing that gave him away: blood red, with a sharp glint of intelligence, a faint glow of madness, and a calculating look of shrewd cruelty.

 

 

“I know you,” she breathed out, shock clearly written all over her face. “You were in the paper just a few days ago, something about a charity ball! Why are you doing this? You're already rich. You're a powerful man in this city…”

 

 

He interrupted, clucking his tongue dispassionately, “I have interests and connections in both Europe and Asia, and the current president of Southern Africa owes me a rather large sum of money. I am a powerful man all over the world.”

 

 

“Then why?” Kagome demanded, feeling a sense of injustice, a need to understand what this man was after.

 

 

“Because I can.” He replied simply, darkly.

 

 

“That's not a reason,” she shot back, challenge written in the stiff set to her limbs, the firmness of her eyes. “That's an excuse.”

 

 

He reassessed her for a moment. “What is power, what is money or influence, when a man is enslaved to the natural precept that no creature on earth can escape?”

 

 

“Death?”

 

 

“Precisely.”

 

 

“So you're after immortality?” She asked, a strange feeling of disbelief washing over her. “Not even youkai live forever. Even the strongest undiluted bloodlines only have natural life spans of several hundred years at most.” She watched his face carefully, but his expression remained passive, if not slightly amused. “You've already extended your life.” She concluded confidently. “But at what price?”

 

 

His eyes widened fractionally, and she found she had no sense of victory in it. As much as she wanted to after all he had done to her, she could not find it in her to hate him. He was an object of pity: a man consumed by his own greed, consumed by the demons of the mind long before he ever gave himself over in body.

 

 

She understood that he was dangerous, had no disillusions to the fact that he needed to be destroyed, but she did not hate him.

 

 

Once upon a time he may have been an ordinary man, with ordinary dreams. A round-cheeked child following at his mother's heels, a young man in love, perhaps. No one was born this way, so twisted up inside that they are driven to madness and destruction, so mutated that there is almost nothing left inside that resembles who they once were.

 

 

She would not damn him, wretched creature that he was, but she could never forgive him either. And given half the chance, she would stop him if she could.

 

 

“You are an interesting little nymph, aren't you?” His eyes were still cold, calculating, and cruel, but the set of his mouth had settled into something foreign: unguarded, and almost regretful. “Had I known, I may have decided to keep you as a pet.”

 

 

“I'm not house broken,” Kagome shot back, offended. As if she would consent to be anyone's pet. How degrading.

 

 

“Clearly.” He was amused again, enjoying the way she flared with outrage. “T'is but a trifle. The trick would be breaking you with out breaking you. And I do so love a challenge.” He sighed with exaggerated regret. “Too bad you'll be dead by the end of the week. Such a waste.”