Time and Time Again

Disclaimer: I don't own anything contained herein; all characters unless stated otherwise belong to Koyasu Takehito.

So. You're here again? Good to see you, good to see you. Please, excuse the mess, I wasn't expecting visitors. Not today, anyway...

So, how are you? Good, good. Really, you must excuse me, I have nothing to offer you. I am terribly sorry - you're not here for cookies? Really. Then what ARE you here for?

Ah. I see. I haven't talked about that for a long time. A long time. hm? Oh yes, yes. Of course. I daydream sometimes. Get lost in the memory of what I knew. I'm getting to it, hold your horses. It's an old expression, it means wait. Be patient. I'm getting to it. So. You want to know about me, hmm?

My story starts when I was a child. About three thousand years ago. Haha, I don't look that old you say? Of course I don't. I'm in my fourties. Then how, you ask, could I have been a child three thousand years ago? Quite simply. Now hush, and let me tell you my story.
--~~--~~--~~--~~--

I was a child, as most people start out being, and I had a family whom I loved very much. My mother was dead, but I was young enough that I didn't feel the tragedy of her loss very deeply. I missed her, of course, and my 'father' was never the same without her. He became distant, and cold, and things were never quite the same.

My brothers were my heroes, my idols. Masafumi was older than me by about eight years, and my eldest brother, Hirofumi, by eleven. I was seven that summer, and Hirofumi had brought me home from school. We had a large estate; my father was to become one of the most powerful men in Japan, someday, but then, we were merely 'rich.'

My brothers, even then, showed some of the corruption that would eventually ruin their lives. I ran for Masafumi, and fell, but as I was falling, I watched him tear the wings off a butterfly. It scared me, but he was my favorite, and I ran to him. He smiled at me, and hugged me, but Hirofumi told me that I needed to go home. I followed him back to the house, and life proceeded normally. After dinner, I went to bed, and was listening to my tapes - they told me stories, like fairy tales, and such - before I fell asleep. I was dozing off, when something came into my room. I remember something that smelled sweet, and then nothing else.

I woke up somewhere dark and damp, and there were two men leering at me. I couldn't move, or speak, or anything. I found out later that I'd been tied up and gagged, and they'd kidnapped me for money. They were on the phone to my father, and he wouldn't negotiate with them. He told them that he didn't care about what happened to me, but he wasn't going to pay what they asked. They untied me, and took my clothes, and then.. well...

I don't know how long I lay there after they were finished with me. I knew they'd tied me up again, because my arms and legs were numb. Then, I heard someone's voice, calling me, telling me I was okay now. I heard gunshots, and got up and ran to them. I never saw his face clearly, but he smiled at me, and told me I was safe.

We ran to a car....
-~~--~~-
"Mamoru! Mamoru, are you alright?" A pretty woman with long red hair was waiting by the car, and he nodded.

"Yes, ma'am." Mamoru said, politely. She smiled.

"My name is Manx. You will call me Manx from now on, do you understand?" Mamoru nodded again.

"Yes, Miss Manx." Her smile widened.

"Good. This is Persia. He rescued you." Mamoru turned to the man who'd called him out, who'd taken him from that horrible place.

"Thank you, Persia," He said softly. Persia nodded, already getting into the car. Manx ushered him into the backseat, and he put his seatbelt on. She sat in front, with Persia, and then Persia began speaking.

"Your father is an evil man, Mamoru. You cannot understand the evil things he's done, but I don't think he will stop there. Because of this, you cannot be known as Mamoru Takatori anymore. Everyone will think that you died, and that is how we want it. You will be known as Omi Tsukiyono, do you understand me Omi?"

Omi nodded. "Yes, Persia." he said, yawning.

"Good boy, son. Go to sleep now. You'll be safe." Omi nodded again, and curled up in the backseat. When he woke up, he didn't remember being a Takatori, or anything that had happened up until that point.
----
Five years later, they told me I was going to begin training. I'd already been trained in hand to hand combat, although it was more self defense than anything. My twelfth birthday, they told me I was going to become... an assassin.
----
"Wake up, Omi. Time to get up!"

Omi blearily opened his eyes, startled to see Manx hovering over his bed. "Good morning, sleepyhead." she said brightly. "Happy birthday!"

Omi smiled at her. "Good morning, Manx. It's my birthday already?"

She nodded. "You're twelve today. Persia would like to see you, also. Get up, get dressed, and he'll be in to see you shortly." Omi nodded, and practically jumped out of bed. He showered quickly, brushing his longish blonde hair out of his face. He still hadn't found a good hairstyle. He loved it long, but it got in his face more than it did anything, and so had to keep it relatively short. It was nearly to his shoulders now, despite the fact that he'd cut it last month. He dressed in sweatpants and a teeshirt, figuring that he was going to be training.

Persia came in as soon as he was through dressing. "Omi, today is a very special day. Not only is it your birthday, but we have an even bigger surprise for you."

Omi waited patiently for Persia to tell him what it was, and was not disappointed. "Today, we will begin training you with weapons. Last year you chose long range. Do you still abide by that decision?"

Omi nodded, and Persia handed him a box. Inside was a compound bow, a crossbow, and some darts. His eyes lit up. "I'm training...!" he breathed, excited. Gently placing Persia's gifts on the bed, he gave Persia an exuberant hug. "Finally!" Persia laughed, and nodded.

"Yes. You will begin training now. Remember what we taught you about using a gun?" Omi nodded. "Well, forget it. Guns are merely point and shoot. To accurately use your darts, or the bow, you will need much more skill with your coordination than that." Omi nodded, and Persia left, flicking on the lights.

//Five years, and I've never once seen his face.// he realized. Persia rarely came to see him face to face, and when he did, the lights were off. Mostly, Persia communicated through Manx, or a tape delivered by Manx.

A few years back, when she'd been drunk, Manx let slip that this too was part of his training, as when he was finally out fulfilling his 'purpose' he'd never see Persia again, simply his recorded face. She hadn't explained then what 'his purpose' was, but he'd been able to guess. It was still a surprise when she came in shortly after Persia, bearing paperwork.

"You are today old enough to become a full member of Kritiker. You will be known formally as Bombay; expect everyone to call you this, and I expect you to answer to it. Understand, Bombay?" He nodded, repeating it in his mind. //Bombay...//

"Today, you are an initiate of Kritiker's "WEISS". You will begin training with your chosen weapon today, and a full briefing will be provided after lunch." She bowed formally, and left. Omi, who had been taught how to handle a bow when he'd made the choice, took out the weapons, and stroked them, and touched them. He was going to rely on these from now on, and even if he didn't know what he was doing, they would be a big part of his life. He carefully took apart each dart and inspected it for dirt or decay, and put it back together. He did the same for the crossbow and the compound bow, and then set them aside. He checked his gun, took it apart, and cleaned it, then reloaded it, and put it back in the drawer where it stayed. Weapons checked, he traded in the sweatpants for jeans and went for breakfast.

His best friends, Bengal and Somali, both of whom'd been given code names the month before, met him. "Hey, you're Bombay now, huh?" Somali asked, grinning. She ruffled his hair, and sat down next to him with a tray of food.

Bengal proceeded to eat his apple. Through mouthfuls, he asked, "So, do you..... know what..... team you....are gonna be on?" Omi shrugged.

"I have no idea. Manx mentioned "weiss" but I don't know if that's what she meant." Both Somali and Bengal went still.

"Weiss? Bombay, are you CERTAIN?" Bengal asked. Omi nodded.

"That's what she said." He frowned. "What's the huge deal with Weiss? It's just a team, right?"

"Wrong," Somali said sternly. "Don't you read? Only the BEST will be put on Weiss. It's going to be a public-lethal team."

"Public lethal...?" Omi asked. Bengal smacked him.

"Der. Everyone knows what those are, and everyone wants to be on one. They hide out, right in public view, and kill people."

Somali nodded. "Not quite, but you get the general idea. You're going to be on Weiss!" she said, gleefully. "Benji and I are going to be on Ruhm. All we do is collect information."

Bengal grinned. "But think about it, Mally. We're going to be collecting information for WEISS someday!"

"Better not screw it up then," Omi said good naturedly.
----
It took me another three years to become proficient with all my chosen weapons. And that was when Weiss was formed... er... formally. I was fifteen, and had become a one-man assassin unit. I was told there would eventually be three to five of us in Weiss, but I was willing to wait for talented people to join me. If I was going to be part of the best lethal unit Kritiker had, then I was going to have the best. Three people by then had been put through my tests, and none walked away. None were good enough.
----
Manx walked into Omi's room carrying a folder. "Bombay, you have a mission." Omi looked up from his friendly 'hacking' competition. He'd been going against someone online for weeks now, and all he knew about them was their screen name, and the fact that they were even better than him at hacking. Kritiker had only recently shown him the computer hacking he was going to be doing, but he was taking to it like a fish to water. His 'friend' gave him hints and tricks, and he improved daily.

"Yes, Manx?" he said respectfully. She looked at his scores, and nodded approvingly. "You are more than Kritiker ever dreamed you would be, Bombay." she said affectionately, and his cheeks turned pink under the praise. Good words from Manx were harder and harder to get these days, and rebukes and rebuttals were more likely. Only Omi had heard anything nice from her in weeks, and him only because she was his surrogate mother.

While she ran down the mission briefing, he daydreamed. He didn't remember his family or how he'd come to be with Kritiker, but when he asked, he'd been told that he didn't want to know. Content with that, he never asked again. Sometimes he thought that they were the best parents in the world, that they'd loved him, and he'd never wanted for anything. They'd died horribly in a car wreck, and Kritiker had taken him in out of pity. Sometimes, they were abusive, and evil, and Kritiker had rescued him from them. Whichever way the pendulum swang, he'd ended up here, and he couldn't imagine life without Kritiker. Manx handed him the folder, and he realized that he was going to be picking someone up, another potential member for Weiss. He'd just been rescued from a fire meant to kill him. He was the J-Leaguer who'd supposedly thrown the game for money. Omi didn't think he'd done it on purpose; he'd looked like he was drugged. Oh well. Better to get the whole story from him first. "When do I leave?" he asked Manx.

"As soon as you can." was her reply. Omi nodded, and turned back to his computer.

-Bombay: Nightchild, I have to go. I'm on a mission tonight.

he typed, and waited.

-Nightchild: Alright, Bombay. Good luck.

He grinned, and locked down his computer, so that Nightchild couldn't hack into it while he was on the mission. He knew that his friend would try, to see if he'd absorbed that lesson.

Manx frowned disapprovingly. "You tell your friends about your missions?" Omi shook his head.

"No, Manx." He didn't clarify further, and she didn't ask.
-~-~-~-~-
Ken Hidaka was a fast-paced, furious fighter, and Omi thought that he may have just met his match. When Ken knocked him down for the fourth time, he grinned, and shook his hand. "Ken, let me tell you about Kritiker."

"They're the ones who saved me from the fire, aren't they?" he asked. Omi nodded. "Would you like to be a part of that group? They can help you find out who set you up, and help you get your revenge on them. Would you like that?"

Ken's eyes narrowed darkly. "I would like that very much." he said. Omi lead him from the training room floor to the acolyte floor. 'Acolyte' was what newbies were called before they'd been initiated into Kritiker. Omi sat him down and explained EVERYTHING. He told Ken exactly what Kritiker did, and how they did it. "This is your last chance to get away, Ken," he said quietly. "If you don't want in, tell me now, and you'll walk away. But if you walk away, you must never speak of this again. If you do, you will be hunted down and eliminated."

Ken paled slightly, but he'd already been won. "I'll join," he said. "Where do I sign?"

Omi nodded. "You realize that once you join, it's not something that you can pick up and drop at will. Kritiker will own you, and in turn, take care of you."

Ken nodded. "I know." Omi handed him the forms legalizing his transition from citizen to 'dead'. Dead was how they referred to themselves when they crossed to Kritiker, and 'Ghost' was a name for those who did the information gathering. Bengal and Somali were Weiss' Ghosts, and they worked closely with Bombay on missions. Omi explained this to Ken.

"We're all dead." he said, and Ken laughed at him. When his expression didn't change, Ken frowned.

"Dead?" Omi nodded. Ken's frown deepened.

"We don't exist. This building isn't here, and no one here is alive. This is how we do what we do. The government doesn't acknowledge us, and we're happy that way, because that keeps the police off our lethal units." he explained. As Ken signed the paperwork, Omi smiled. "Welcome to Weiss, Siberian."

"Siberian?" Ken asked. Omi sighed. He was a good fighter, and he would be a valuable asset, but he was more brawn than brain sometimes.

"Everyone here has cat-codenames. I'm Bombay. You'll never hear anyone around here call me by my real name. I don't even know Manx's real name, and I've known her since I was a child. She was introduced to me as Manx, and I've never had need to call her by anything else. My 'boss's name is Persia. My friends, who are the ghosts for my team, are called Somali and Bengal. I don't know their real names, and I don't care to. I'll call you Siberian out here, and I expect you to call me Bombay at all times. But when we're in our room- we'll be rooming together for a while- you can call my by my real name."

Ken nodded. "Alright, I understand, Bombay." Omi smiled.

"Now, we're going to get you outfitted, and logged in." Ken's eyes went wide.

"What?" Omi sighed.

"Just follow me."
----
My first impression that Ken wasn't the brightest crayon in the box was correct, although he was intelligent. He just didn't use it. He took six months to train with his weapon, something I never learned to pronounce. He always called it his 'claw' and I referred to it as his cat's claws. Once those six months were up, we were officially known as Weiss, and we moved out of Kritiker's building to a flowershop. We went through two and a half months of intense drilling on flowers, meanings, arrangements, and care before the shop opened. I called it Kitty in the House, because after all, our codenames were cats, and this was our house.

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End Chapter 1
What do you think? I know how this will end, but I don't know how it will get there. Wait, yes I do... I'll think of something. Let me know how you like this, alright?