Junior wagged his tail at Wendy’s command to sit down and threw a bob-omb at a bunch of cop cars that had clustered off to the right of the road to avoid hitting a pedestrian.
“Hey, someone’s gotta keep the cops off our backs!” he said with the same kind of cheeky intractable grin that had won him his first date with Diddy.
Even in the midst of their chase, and him rapidly regretting ever letting Junior talk him into this, Diddy couldn't help but feel a small flutter at seeing it. Just a small one, though: the greater part of him was too busy worrying about what would happen if the car suddenly crashed. The kong looked over his shoulder and received a very stern ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look from the bound and gagged princess that made him wince.
Junior caught the look and laughed.
“Don’t sweat it, Dids, you get used to that look after awhile.” He sat down, buckling up tight once he saw that Wendy was hovering her finger over ‘The Button.’
“The Button, the Button, the Button, the Button!!” Junior cheered.
———
Far from the commotion elsewhere in the city, Usso Evin carefully leafed through the stationary in the little store on Yoshi avenue. Everything there was significantly more expensive than the normal bulk white and brown stationary he’d used at home and in the military, and for that reason he found the task quite relaxing. This city was a place where conflict was far enough away that they didn’t have to worry about food shortages, air raids, town squares being gunned down by mobile suits, mass executions, orbital bombardment, or the long privations of a costly peace. They had time here for such frivolous things as envelopes with cats or bunny rabbits on it. They had the money here to spend on such niceties instead of squirreling every bit away that they could for food.
His newtype senses told him something was off in the store. He had his old emergency service pistol at his hip, but he was frankly a lousy shot outside of his Gundam and knew that if the person he now sensed was watching him from the corner of the store wanted to attack him, he would be better off running.
He waited, tense, sweat on his brow as he hurriedly took the stationary he’d selected over to the counter to pay. He tried very hard not to look behind him, his hands fumbling as they brought out the money. He just needed to pay and get out.
The man behind him put a hand on his shoulder.
———
As the man in the corner kept crying, Defago carefully used one of his long claws to wipe away a trickle of blood hanging on his polar coat. It immediately froze solid, and he tapped it against his metal mask where it flaked away to the ground.
“I don’t know why Chong hasn’t taken an interest in us before, but he certainly has now. This is a list of names,” Joshua said, his eyes world-weary now that there was no longer a prey item before them. He and Defago continued to ignore the man crying on the ground.
“Targets. You and I are both on here.”
“Targets to what?” Defago asked. “Assassination? Spying? Recruitment? Kidnapping?”
“For us, it says ‘monitor’. That makes sense. If they had wanted to capture, kill, or sway people of our capability away from the cause, they would have sent someone less disposable than this poor soul.” Joshua tapped his boot gently against the crumpled up trailer, who cringed and wept harder.
“It has other orders on here for other people as well, ten names in total,” Joshua said, carefully folding the orders and putting them in a pouch on his SLCPD flak jacket. He turned his blue eyes to meet the yellow light emanating from the eye sockets Defago’s mask. “Stripetail needs to be alerted to this.”
“Oh, for sure, for sure,” Defago agreed, nodding. “Boss Stripetail’d definitely want to know about targets ‘n such. But how do we find ‘im? You and me have been out of contact range for awhile now pour être honnête.”
“We can get you in contact, si tu veux,” came a voice from down the alley, as a pair of footsteps approached. From out of the glare of the night lit lamps, the figures of two special agents came into view. “Nous avons un moyen d’entrer en contact avec lui.”
“Boss G!” Defago crowed in greeting as he and Thomas Rogan came into the alleyway. “I keep forgetting yer a New Orleans man, showin’ off some ‘o that Cajun French.”
The man on the ground looked up, eyes red and streaked with panicked tears. The agents, like the Wendigo and the burned man, paid him no mind.
Joshua’s blue eyes flickered plaintively between the two agents.
“You gentlemen were rather timely in finding us,” Joshua said with calm accusation. “I hope you haven’t been tracking us without our knowledge.”
Rogan stuck his hands into the pockets of his long brown coat.
“Not you, but Defago here, yes,” Rogan said. Defago frowned.
“Really? When did you boys manage to do that? I caught the tracker in that ice cube.” He didn’t ask why the agents bugged him, since it was his fault their super secret serum fell into Chong’s hands in the first place.
“Trade secret,” Rogan said with an insincere smile.
The man on the ground coughed. “Y… your too… late…”
The eyes of four men who could have killed him in an instant suddenly regarded the weeping spy on the ground. “Too late for me, too…”
“If there’s more you can tell us, you should do so,” Joshua said, his combat boots crunching glass on the street as he walked forward. “It’s never too late to start to atone for the things you’ve done. Believe me.”
The broken spy hacked out a disbelieving laugh.
“We can keep you safe,” Joshua said as he produced his pistol. “The four of us have survived worse than what Chong could send after you.”
“You don’t know anything if you believe that,” the man gasped through his injured throat. “You don’t know what he’s like. He won’t just kill me if he finds out I failed…” He suddenly reached for something in his clothes and brought it to his mouth.
“Wait, don’t!” G cried, but it was too late. The man swallowed the object he had pulled out of his pocket, shuddered briefly, then lay completely still.
Rogan swore, while Joshua muttered something that sounded like a prayer. The man in the iron mask sighed.
“Looks like we need to get in contact with the boss sooner rather’n later,” Defago said.
“Right,” Rogan sighed, pulling out an AMS PDA device. “He’s a busy man… uh, squirrel. I’ll send him a request for a meeting, and he should be able to get back to us once he’s available.”
G looked over to the body of the dead spy. “What are we going to do about him? We should check him for any other materials he might have on Chong.”
“I’ll check him,” Joshua said. His voice sounded regretful. “After that, I’ll see that his remains are put to rest. Everyone deserves a proper burial.”
