Chapter Nine

IVY

The car's engine purrs as I reach Aria's Dry Cleaners, parking behind the building. It's the closest station affiliated with the agency Secretary runs, located an hour away from headquarters and ten minutes away from where we just were. Ashe's steady breaths ease my consciousness, but I'm still worried about his health. He slowly opens his eyes, the amber hue still vibrant with life. I open the driver's door and rush over to help Ashe out. The artificial redhead leans against me for support, his left leg out of commission, and we make our way to the side door. I can't see the smoke from the warehouse fire anymore, miles away from where we were. The feeling of being watched is gone, but the uneasiness it brought lingers.

"Are you alright, Ashe?" I ask as I kick the door with my foot, my hands unable to knock properly.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" He coughs out. Not long after he says this, a young girl with bronze skin and bright red box braids that fall to her waist opens the door. Her tired brown eyes look over Ashe and me and quickly widen with concern. Her slightly curvy figure steps aside, allowing me to pass off Ashe to her as she calls out, "Mr. Shirogane! We should close up shop for the night!" We both carry Ashe over to a back room she leads us to; the entire place is a small space, but it's inconspicuous and has a faithful line of those willing to help an organization such as ours.

The girl and I carefully sit Ashe down on one of the break room chairs, and she walks away to grab an extensive first aid kit. Looking around the room, I find a pair of scissors on a square plastic table and pick them up. The bodysuit Ashe is wearing is ruined anyway, and we need to be able to get a better look at his wounds. I carefully cut the fabric around Ashe's left leg, earning a few uncomfortable grunts from the bomber. "Sorry, Ashe, I'm trying not to touch the cut." There's a lot of blood and dirt, and my biggest worry is if an infection has set in. Making the whole circumference of the pant leg, I pull off the material; a lot of dry blood coats his leg, but nothing excessive. It's a good sign, suggesting the bleeding has stopped some, but it looked like such a big gash earlier. When I think about it, when I helped him out of the car, there wasn't any blood pooling up, but it does seem like his suit absorbed a lot of the precious liquid. I move on to his shirt next, carefully pulling up on the tight fabric and cutting up the upper right section of his black suit, so he doesn't have to lift his arms up more than he has to.

"I closed up the shop Aria; who is it this time? Unit 15 again? I swear they need to send them on easier missions." I turn around when I hear the raspy voice. An older Japanese man walks into the room with a giant pitcher of water alongside the girl Aria who carries a hefty first aid box. His gray hair of what remains on his head reveals a massive scar on his skull, and his dark eyes glance at us without a hint of emotion. "Well, unless they got new recruits already, I guess it's not Unit 15." He continues as Aria hustles over.

"Mr. Shirogane, even if it was Unit 15 here, you really shouldn't speak so lowly of them." Aria states. She opens the box as I walk over to Mr. Shirogane, taking the heavy pitcher out of his grasp.

"Unit 47." I kneel beside my injured teammate, pouring a cup of water for him before using the pitcher for a rag Aria hands me to help clean him up.

"47? I haven't seen one of you in a while. Not since years ago with the pale kid who had a scar on his face. It's not like your team to stop into a place like this." The older man speaks, sitting close by with little concern on his face. Is he talking about Shadow? He has to be; there's no one else with that kind of scar in our unit.

Twisting out the rag, I gently drag it across Ashe's tannum skin, the mess clearing up slowly but surely. Aria sits by, ready to help sterilize and wrap the wounds. Ashe winces a bit, a grimace clear on his face. "The cut is deep; he'll need a few stitches, but luckily the bleeding is minimal, and nothing major is damaged," Aria observes from behind my shoulder.

I move on to his right pectoral region as Aria takes responsibility for his leg. Ashe keeps his head knocked back, looking up at the artificial lights above him. "Gah!" Ashe exclaims as Aria cleans up the wound. His hands grip the chair tightly, his fingers turning pale with how firm his grip is. I hope he doesn't feel incompetent; I know we give him a hard time, but he's still an important part of our team. If anything, I should've been able to handle myself down there; I know if it were Fox or Shadow, they would've been fine. I understand they're busy looking into all the socialites from John Garner's conference, but it would've been nice if they at least left us with Raven, no matter how much we don't get along.

I ring out the bloodied cloth, the cut on his chest obviously less severe than what it seemed in the warehouse. His leg is the main issue, but Aria doesn't seem to give much concern as she begins working on the stitches. "Ashe, are you okay? You should drink some water." I take his hand and place the plastic cup in it; he grasps it and lifts it to his face.

Instead of drinking it, he pours the full cup over his head, letting the water drench his red hair and slowly roll down his sweaty skin. "That's better." He sighs out. Aria gives me a concerning look, and I wave it aside to just let him be.

"Do you have a shower hidden in this small store by any chance?" I look over to Mr. Shirogane, not wanting to distract the girl with red braids.

"We do. Out this door, down the small hallway, and the first door on the left. It's fully stocked, and there are spare clothes in the linen closet."

"Thank you," I reply. I get up from my kneeling position, the scrapes and cuts from my own endeavors stinging tremendously. I do my best to pretend the pain isn't there.

"Before you go," Mr. Shirogane holds up a hand to stop me from walking out. He picks up a few things in the first aid kit and hands them over to me: Isopropyl alcohol, nanocrystalline silver, and scar cream. I stand dumbfounded, unsure how to reply, but he doesn't acknowledge my idleness, sitting back down in his chair and watching Aria stitch up Ashe's leg. Eventually, I depart the room silently, thankful for the help, and go to clean myself up.

Entering the small bathroom, there's just enough space to cram everything in, but not a lot of walking room. Slowly, I undress myself, revealing all the damage from the field mission. Nothing as bad as what Ashe has sustained, but minor scratches and painful bruises decorate my medium-deep beige skin. The worst is a burn on my left forearm, but it doesn't seem extreme, only a first-degree burn. I've been pretty lucky, most missions, I only sustain minor injuries, nothing that has scarred me or reminds me that I am an assassin.

I take the rubbing alcohol Mr. Shirogane provided me and find a rag underneath the bathroom sink, dousing it in the sterilizing liquid. I take another rag and place it in my mouth to bite down on, then press the rag onto the decorative cuts lining my body. The searing pain has my head teetering backward as if that will help the pain, but it quickly wanes. I repeat the same process except for the burn, running it under cool water to calm the prickling nerves. I apply the nanocrystalline silver to my burn and stash away the scar cream for later. I wrap what I can using the bandages in the same cabinet I found the rags and finish cleaning myself up.

***

After washing up, Ashe still has to freshen up himself and get dressed in some functioning clothes. I walk down the sidewalk outside the dry cleaners and keep walking in the chill autumn air until I come across a 24/7 convenience store, strolling up to the automatic doors to let me inside. It's not the cleanest place, but the shelves are well stocked, and only one other customer is inside the place, minding his own business by the booze. The man is a bit well dressed considering the location, but you could say the same for me and the nice gray suit set I'm wearing, along with a dark gray trench coat.

As I walk further in, I can feel a pair of eyes on me, staring intently. I look out of the corner of my eye and see the cashier's piercing gaze. A slight shiver goes down my spine; great, just what I needed to top off this evening. I pretend to not notice and look at the snacks they offer: a bunch of junk.

Even if I was in the mood to be hit on, it's not easy pursuing a relationship and being an assassin. When I was sixteen, I had my first relationship only because I thought I had to be in one since everyone else was. I wanted to seem normal. But it was challenging since I didn't really love the person I was with, but I guess he was nice to me overall. I also knew I would probably be used to seduce some target at some point. I didn't want all my firsts to be given away to some random person I had no choice in picking. After I broke up with my first and only 'real' boyfriend, one of my first genuine missions was wooing a son of a governor in the county. Once I got all the info I needed and Shadow picked off his father, we broke up. An easy split, unlike some of the other 'relationships'. Shadow, Fox, and I have had our own share of terrible 'relationships', but Cherry being the true femme fatale of the team, has undoubtedly had it far worse. Although, Secretary has been adamant about trying to get me to be the next one once Cherry retires.

I pick up a random bag; the crinkling sound the package makes reminds me of Luke trying to steal some chips late at night. Of course, he would've gotten away with it if he had paid attention to me mentioning I had work extra late. I crack a smile at the memory but quickly shut it down. I shouldn't get so distracted in my thoughts now; I should head back sooner than later. I don't want to keep Ashe waiting.

I take the small bag of chips and walk up to the counter to check out, also placing down a store brand pack of gum with the words 'SUPER EXTRA FUN SIZE' plastered on the packaging with a weird red blob of a mascot. "Did you find everything you're looking for, beautiful?" The cashier asks as he begins scanning my items. He's a tad taller than I am, with nice blonde hair and blue eyes. He wears a true-green vest for the store without a name badge and plain clothing. He seems younger… maybe 18?

I don't want to do anything unnecessary, so I just smile and say, "Yes, thank you."

"Are you sure you found everything?"

"Uh, yes, I am sure."

"I don't think you've found everything, though." He persists, his blue eyes not moving off of me. "I think you're missing a date for tomorrow evening." He winks. He's attractive physically, but otherwise, he's not appealing: his voice, tone, and entitlement. Maybe I'm being harsh on him, but he has been staring at me the entire time since I walked in. First impressions are hard to get rid of.

"Ah, no thank you, just these two items, please." I awkwardly smile, wishing I would've just walked out without buying anything.

"Are you sure I can't twist your arm on this?" His hand lingers on mine as he hands me the plastic bag holding my items.

I pull back instantly. "No, I really have to get going." His face turns a bit sour, displeased at my answer.

I start walking away when he comes out from behind the counter. "At least let me walk you back to your car. It's dangerous this late at night–"

"It's only dangerous because of punks like you." A familiar voice hits my ears. And not a good one. I turn around to see the man who was browsing the booze earlier, grabbing the younger boy's arm. Pressed suit, fair skin, tall, handsome, dark hair, and gray eyes– plus the defining sapphire brooch. Agent Case from the PI sector of the government. It's been a few days since he came by our office to interrogate Fox and me. I can only pray that he doesn't recognize me with my lack of green eyes and makeup. Not to mention the screw-up with the nose. Internally I cringe, almost forgetting the scene unfolding before me.

"Hey, old man, let go." The blonde scoffs.

"Don't push your luck, kid." Case lightly pushes the young adult away from him and me, looking over at me to see if I'm okay. "Are you alright, miss?"

"Oh, so you do this to look like the good guy and steal my date? How mature of you. Don't listen to him; tell him you want me walking you out!" This boy is lucky we're not alone. I think I would've shown him what it's like to really twist an arm around.

"I've already said no several times; please leave me alone already." I make sure to use my regular voice, not the higher-pitched "cute" voice I use as Claire. The boy looks visibly annoyed but doesn't make any further advances with Case around. Case does take a short double-take when he addresses me again, as if he didn't get a good look the first time around. Please, please, please. "Is there something wrong?" I ask him to break the silence.

"No, sorry, you just look familiar, is all." He eyes me over, just like he did at the office. He sure likes to analyze people.

"I get that a lot. I guess I just have that kind of face." I play it off, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

"What the hell?! So you let him–" The kid pipes up but is quickly cut off by Case and me.

"Shut up." We both speak simultaneously. We look back at each other, amusement in both of our eyes at our responses. The cashier grumbles, carrying himself back behind the counter, giving up on pursuing me.

"I'll make sure he doesn't follow you out. Are you alright walking back alone?" Does he not realize? Is he acting? Either way, I'm glad he won't follow me out, but I'll remain vigilant if he changes his mind.

"Yes, thank you, uh…" I pause to make it seem as if I really don't know him.

"Case."

"Case?"

"Just Case is fine." He gives a warm smile, a smile I didn't know could come from this man. He was so ingenuine at the office, probably because of the reason he was there in the first place, but here he was actually… nice?

"Thank you, Case." I give a slight bow to show my gratitude and quickly walk out of there, gum and chips in hand. My heart beats uncontrollably, my anxiety from the interaction catching up to me. My whole body is pulsating from how strongly my heart keeps thumping and my mind spinning from the coincidence that had just occurred. Out of everywhere and everyone in this sector of Lynti, I had to bump into the one government agent who is probably– no, definitely keeping some sort of tab on us? I'm still unsure what to make of his presence out here, but he is a private investigator; he could just be hired for a job out this way. I don't feel like I'm being followed, but I don't know what to make of him. Even Fox said he acts pretty strange. I try my best to reassure myself before making it back to the dry cleaners.

Before I know it, I reach my destination, with Ashe standing outside waiting in the cold night air leaning against the wall. He holds a small bag, presumably holding any medicine he needs to take or apply to his injuries. As soon as he hears my footsteps, he stands up as straight as he can, leaning on his right leg for support. "They told me you were going for a quick walk, but that wasn't quick at all. I've been standing out here for almost twenty minutes–"

Before he can continue, I toss the bag of chips at him, and he catches it. "I got you something." I look sadly at his stance, and even though I can't see his bandaged leg and chest underneath his fresh clothes, knowing that I was the one who should've done better. I was the one who was supposed to keep everything safe and in check for Ashe to get his part of the job done.

"Hey, uh, it's been a long day; let's just… let's just go." Ashe pulls back his attitude from just a second ago, scratching the back of his neck. "I hope you're ready to get scolded by Secretary– Mr. Shirogane took the liberty of informing her about our whereabouts."

"Great," I respond sarcastically. I can't wait to report this whole evening to her. Finally, we load up in the car, ready to say goodbye to this entire mess of a day. As Ashe slides into the passenger seat, he makes a weird face at the side view mirror. "What is it?" I ask.

"Uh, I'm not sure… yet…" He hobbles back out and reaches his hand out to pluck a small black tick-like thing off the mirror.

"A bug?" I question.

"It's a bug, alright," He throws it to the ground, smashing it with his right foot, leaning against the car for support. He locks his amber eyes onto my brown ones. "Tracker."