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scriveynerTitle: All The Time in the World - Chapter 6
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Spyfic
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 1516
Summary: "First time in a love hotel?"
Gotou sat with his back to the wall, wrists resting loosely on his knees. There were a few scant hours before they would be on the move again, and he should use this time to catch a couple hours’ sleep; rest and recharge because who knew when he would get the opportunity (or supposed safety) to do so again. But he couldn’t calm his thoughts, and that frustrated him, he hadn’t been cornered like this in a long, long time.
Hazama had no trouble sleeping, apparently, stretched out on a futon on the floor, eyes closed and blissful, idiotic expression on his face. His friend Blue had left earlier; confidence in his voice that wavered a syllable when he looked at Gotou.
There was no reason for him to stay, and yet exhaustion rooted him in place. He’d been on the go longer, hunted by men and organizations who had wanted him dead and fast; but this was different. He’d been betrayed by agents in the field, but this was the home operation – and they knew where he went, there was no way he was off the radar in this town so their hanging back at the moment had a purpose, and he had to figure out their next move before he became a blurb on the nightly news.
Gotou tilted his head back against the wall, and slid his eyes closed. After a few deep breaths he slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans, fished out his mostly-depleted pack of cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth, lighting it.
Hazama didn’t move, or open his eyes, but he said in a sleepy voice, “this is a non-smoking apartment.”
Gotou neither acknowledged him, nor put out the cigarette.
#
Blue returned mid-morning, a duffel bag slung over his shoulders that he hadn’t been wearing when he left. “They’re looking for you,” he said as he put the bag down on a low center table. He was addressing Masayoshi, who sat up cross-legged on the futon, eyes clear and movements clear as if he’d slept a full night. Blue glanced over at Gotou significantly, and didn’t elaborate who “they” were.
“I’m not surprised,” Masayoshi said. He sat up on his knees and grabbed the duffel bag by the end, unzipping it and shaking his head. “I can’t believe you just walked off with all this, Blue, did Green help?”
The bag was a full field kit and then some. Gotou hauled himself to his feet and stood over Masayoshi, arms crossed and impressed despite himself. “Is everyone you know some shade of color?” he asked, as Masayoshi put a holstered handgun on the table.
Masayoshi ignored him and pulled out the full kit. “Where’s the tracking device?” he asked Blue. Blue furrowed his brow, looked at Gotou again, a little nervous as Gotou had picked up the handgun and removed it from its holster.
“There aren’t tracking devices in Green’s kits,” he said.
Masayoshi nodded his head, and put the kit aside.
The gun was a P99, a model Gotou was familiar with. He checked the weapon efficiently, having already made his plan. “The kit’s still going to be tracked,” Gotou said as he tucked the weapon away.
“I know,” Masayoshi said calmly, as Blue glanced up at Gotou. “Did you give Green the memory card?”
Blue nodded his head, attention back on Masayoshi. He had spent the first hour of their time in Blue’s apartment copying everything he’d been able to clone off the tablet to an encrypted memory card; an exchange of information for gear. “Good.”
Masayoshi turned and held up a new thumb drive. “It’s incomplete,” he said, extending it toward Gotou. “But something on here is important enough to get us both in a lot of trouble. I’m thinking we need to get to the bottom of it.”
Gotou did not take the thumb drive from Masayoshi. “You don’t need to be involved in this further,” he said. “Your people can protect you.”
Masayoshi glanced at Blue, and Blue looked over to Gotou, who then shook his head. “They want to bring leader in,” he said. “It’s not as … messy, as what your agency is doing.” Blue looked down at the table, and then over to the kit. “You don’t have all that much time,” he added, and Masayoshi nodded, and pulled passports from the bag.
“Then we need to go.”
#
They were five blocks away from Blue’s apartment when Masayoshi suddenly veered into an alley. Gotou followed him as he unzipped the kit and pulled out a sophisticated, thin laptop that had been included. Masayoshi opened the lid of the laptop, and then kept opening it, laying the screen flat against the back of the keyboard. Activated, the laptop had a plain log-in screen.
Network activity of any kind would be traced and logged, and Gotou was in the process of reaching to snatch the tech from Masayoshi’s hands when Masayoshi half-turned to an open dumpster, and dropped the activated device into its open bin.
“It’s tracked,” he said unnecessarily. “If I destroyed it it would be too obvious.”
“It won’t be the only tracker in the kit,” Gotou pointed out, and Masayoshi shook his head, a bitter expression on his face.
“I know,” he said, softly.
#
The hotel took cash, and didn’t have cameras in the lobby. Gotou had used pay-by-the-hour hotels before for this exact reason; the clerk even was hidden behind a pane of frosted glass. Masayoshi ducked his head, ears red.
They’d ditched the passports – sold for a wad of cash to a shady-looking man with the edge of a tattoo peeking out from an open collared shirt. Masayoshi stood at the end of the street, arms folded and back to the transaction, not approving of Gotou’s methods of contact; but not refusing to cooperate either. Gotou used a small portion of the same wad of cash to buy a cheap burner laptop; he set the bag down on the low dresser in the room as Masayoshi walked to the balcony, drawing the curtains.
Gotou watched Masayoshi move out out of the corner of his eye. He had lingered at the curtains a moment, staring out at the late afternoon cityscape before twitching them closed. His ears were still red. “First time in a love hotel?” Gotou asked idly, flipping the computer on and setting his holstered firearm on the dresser beside it.
“No!” Masayoshi yelped, then flushed properly and looked away.
There was a desk chair – a nice leather thing, and Gotou very firmly did not think about what sort of things it was used for – and he leaned back a little in it, waiting for the system to boot. “If it makes you feel better you can have the bed,” he said generously. “I won’t be sleeping.”
He turned back to the computer as Masayoshi took a step forward, flush forgotten. “You didn’t sleep at Blue’s,” he said. “You need to sleep, you can’t keep functioning…”
Gotou held out his hand for the thumb drive, his eyes on the computer. “I need the drive,” he said, and Masayoshi hesitated a moment, before shrugging and pulling it out of the pocket of his jeans.
“You’ve got to sleep sometime,” he said finally, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching Gotou on the computer.
Gotou wasn’t listening to him any longer.
#
On the screen, large and dark, a green dot suddenly flared to life. “That’s the fifth one,” a woman said, her hair coiled into a tight bun. She slid a toggle across the desk, and the radar on-screen overlaid onto a cityscape.
She was not alone in the room, full of various technicians. She didn’t even bother to look up at the man dressed in a sharp business suit, dark hair combed neatly and glasses perched precariously on his nose.
He stood for a moment in silence, observing the location, and the news. Then he glanced back to the seated figure drenched in darkness, wearing the shadows themselves as a disguise. The figure flicked a delicate wrist, and the dark-haired man nodded.
“Take them,” he said.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Spyfic
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 1516
Summary: "First time in a love hotel?"
Gotou sat with his back to the wall, wrists resting loosely on his knees. There were a few scant hours before they would be on the move again, and he should use this time to catch a couple hours’ sleep; rest and recharge because who knew when he would get the opportunity (or supposed safety) to do so again. But he couldn’t calm his thoughts, and that frustrated him, he hadn’t been cornered like this in a long, long time.
Hazama had no trouble sleeping, apparently, stretched out on a futon on the floor, eyes closed and blissful, idiotic expression on his face. His friend Blue had left earlier; confidence in his voice that wavered a syllable when he looked at Gotou.
There was no reason for him to stay, and yet exhaustion rooted him in place. He’d been on the go longer, hunted by men and organizations who had wanted him dead and fast; but this was different. He’d been betrayed by agents in the field, but this was the home operation – and they knew where he went, there was no way he was off the radar in this town so their hanging back at the moment had a purpose, and he had to figure out their next move before he became a blurb on the nightly news.
Gotou tilted his head back against the wall, and slid his eyes closed. After a few deep breaths he slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans, fished out his mostly-depleted pack of cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth, lighting it.
Hazama didn’t move, or open his eyes, but he said in a sleepy voice, “this is a non-smoking apartment.”
Gotou neither acknowledged him, nor put out the cigarette.
Blue returned mid-morning, a duffel bag slung over his shoulders that he hadn’t been wearing when he left. “They’re looking for you,” he said as he put the bag down on a low center table. He was addressing Masayoshi, who sat up cross-legged on the futon, eyes clear and movements clear as if he’d slept a full night. Blue glanced over at Gotou significantly, and didn’t elaborate who “they” were.
“I’m not surprised,” Masayoshi said. He sat up on his knees and grabbed the duffel bag by the end, unzipping it and shaking his head. “I can’t believe you just walked off with all this, Blue, did Green help?”
The bag was a full field kit and then some. Gotou hauled himself to his feet and stood over Masayoshi, arms crossed and impressed despite himself. “Is everyone you know some shade of color?” he asked, as Masayoshi put a holstered handgun on the table.
Masayoshi ignored him and pulled out the full kit. “Where’s the tracking device?” he asked Blue. Blue furrowed his brow, looked at Gotou again, a little nervous as Gotou had picked up the handgun and removed it from its holster.
“There aren’t tracking devices in Green’s kits,” he said.
Masayoshi nodded his head, and put the kit aside.
The gun was a P99, a model Gotou was familiar with. He checked the weapon efficiently, having already made his plan. “The kit’s still going to be tracked,” Gotou said as he tucked the weapon away.
“I know,” Masayoshi said calmly, as Blue glanced up at Gotou. “Did you give Green the memory card?”
Blue nodded his head, attention back on Masayoshi. He had spent the first hour of their time in Blue’s apartment copying everything he’d been able to clone off the tablet to an encrypted memory card; an exchange of information for gear. “Good.”
Masayoshi turned and held up a new thumb drive. “It’s incomplete,” he said, extending it toward Gotou. “But something on here is important enough to get us both in a lot of trouble. I’m thinking we need to get to the bottom of it.”
Gotou did not take the thumb drive from Masayoshi. “You don’t need to be involved in this further,” he said. “Your people can protect you.”
Masayoshi glanced at Blue, and Blue looked over to Gotou, who then shook his head. “They want to bring leader in,” he said. “It’s not as … messy, as what your agency is doing.” Blue looked down at the table, and then over to the kit. “You don’t have all that much time,” he added, and Masayoshi nodded, and pulled passports from the bag.
“Then we need to go.”
They were five blocks away from Blue’s apartment when Masayoshi suddenly veered into an alley. Gotou followed him as he unzipped the kit and pulled out a sophisticated, thin laptop that had been included. Masayoshi opened the lid of the laptop, and then kept opening it, laying the screen flat against the back of the keyboard. Activated, the laptop had a plain log-in screen.
Network activity of any kind would be traced and logged, and Gotou was in the process of reaching to snatch the tech from Masayoshi’s hands when Masayoshi half-turned to an open dumpster, and dropped the activated device into its open bin.
“It’s tracked,” he said unnecessarily. “If I destroyed it it would be too obvious.”
“It won’t be the only tracker in the kit,” Gotou pointed out, and Masayoshi shook his head, a bitter expression on his face.
“I know,” he said, softly.
The hotel took cash, and didn’t have cameras in the lobby. Gotou had used pay-by-the-hour hotels before for this exact reason; the clerk even was hidden behind a pane of frosted glass. Masayoshi ducked his head, ears red.
They’d ditched the passports – sold for a wad of cash to a shady-looking man with the edge of a tattoo peeking out from an open collared shirt. Masayoshi stood at the end of the street, arms folded and back to the transaction, not approving of Gotou’s methods of contact; but not refusing to cooperate either. Gotou used a small portion of the same wad of cash to buy a cheap burner laptop; he set the bag down on the low dresser in the room as Masayoshi walked to the balcony, drawing the curtains.
Gotou watched Masayoshi move out out of the corner of his eye. He had lingered at the curtains a moment, staring out at the late afternoon cityscape before twitching them closed. His ears were still red. “First time in a love hotel?” Gotou asked idly, flipping the computer on and setting his holstered firearm on the dresser beside it.
“No!” Masayoshi yelped, then flushed properly and looked away.
There was a desk chair – a nice leather thing, and Gotou very firmly did not think about what sort of things it was used for – and he leaned back a little in it, waiting for the system to boot. “If it makes you feel better you can have the bed,” he said generously. “I won’t be sleeping.”
He turned back to the computer as Masayoshi took a step forward, flush forgotten. “You didn’t sleep at Blue’s,” he said. “You need to sleep, you can’t keep functioning…”
Gotou held out his hand for the thumb drive, his eyes on the computer. “I need the drive,” he said, and Masayoshi hesitated a moment, before shrugging and pulling it out of the pocket of his jeans.
“You’ve got to sleep sometime,” he said finally, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching Gotou on the computer.
Gotou wasn’t listening to him any longer.
On the screen, large and dark, a green dot suddenly flared to life. “That’s the fifth one,” a woman said, her hair coiled into a tight bun. She slid a toggle across the desk, and the radar on-screen overlaid onto a cityscape.
She was not alone in the room, full of various technicians. She didn’t even bother to look up at the man dressed in a sharp business suit, dark hair combed neatly and glasses perched precariously on his nose.
He stood for a moment in silence, observing the location, and the news. Then he glanced back to the seated figure drenched in darkness, wearing the shadows themselves as a disguise. The figure flicked a delicate wrist, and the dark-haired man nodded.
“Take them,” he said.
