Work Text:
Ekou had long since perfected the art of getting people to stay out of her way at the bustling JFK Airport. It went a little something like this: full uniform, murder in her eyes, arms held stiffly at her sides, and a brisk pace. Sometimes, she even hummed a slightly sped-up version of the Imperial March to herself as she walked, to ensure that she’d keep proper time.
Tonight, it was easier than usual to maintain this persona. She’d had to take an evening flight out of Tokyo; to add insult to injury, it was a commercial flight, since Father was exceedingly picky about who got to use the private jets when. She’d scarcely been able to get any sleep even in first class, and then the flight had had to land for a few hours in LA to get more fuel. Right now, it was close to midnight in EST, and she was quite annoyed. All she wanted was to get back into her own bed and sleep through the entire next day if she had to. But at least she’d gotten the papers she’d been looking for! Father would be pleased.
As she Imperial Marched her way to the baggage claim area, she wondered who would be there to pick her up. Father would be unlikely, particularly at this time of night. Probably one of his bodyguards, she guessed. They were all exceedingly boring, but they did know how to keep their mouths shut. When she reached the area, though, she stopped short as she realized that the answer was: none of the above. To her surprise and joy, Amon had come to get her instead. He was turned slightly away, and didn’t appear to have seen her yet. She was quick to note that he was dressed in uncharacteristically casual attire: T-shirt, cargo shorts, and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Obviously, he was playing a character, although she wasn’t certain which one. She knew that meant he’d expect her to be one of her alter egos as well. She flipped through them all internally, and decided that Olivia Grant would be the best match.
Olivia was shallow, vain, and none too bright. It was a good thing that she wasn’t a real person, because otherwise Ekou didn’t think she’d be able to endure twenty minutes in Olivia’s company without beating her to a pulp. She softened her face, making sure to smile, and adopted a mincing gait, ensuring that the heels of her boots clicked against the tile to get Amon’s attention. Her heart leapt into her throat as he finally noticed her approaching.
“Oh. My God. It’s, like, so good to see you again!” she exclaimed, with a vocal fry that could be cut with a knife. Although Ekou was not allowed to hug Amon in public, Olivia tended to be touchy-feely. Amon had evidently decided that, whichever character he was, he was close enough to Olivia to allow for a quick embrace. After all those weeks abroad, it felt so good to come into physical contact with him again. She wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped in his arms indefinitely, inhaling his scent, but Olivia wasn’t that kind of person and there was only so much that Amon would put up with even in-character. Reluctantly, she pulled away.
“Hey, Liv, what’s up?” he replied. “It’s good to see you again, too.”
Hearing the words “what’s up” coming out of Amon’s mouth made Ekou feel as if she’d been momentarily transported to the fifth dimension. However, she reminded herself that Olivia would be used to it.
“Okay, so now all we have to do is wait for my…” she broke off as she saw a familiar black suitcase drop onto the conveyor belt. “Wow! There it is! That was fast.” She took the suitcase in one hand and gripped on to the all-important briefcase that was her carryon with the other, and the two of them set off towards the parking area.
“I take it you wanted to go straight home?” he asked.
“Hm. Actually, can we get something to eat on the way? I’m, like, totally starving right now.” This was the truth; she was still messed up by the time difference, and her body firmly believed that it was lunchtime.
Amon shrugged. “Sure, no prob.” Ekou once again almost had a stroke.
They got out to where the Mercedes waited for them with its chauffeur. Amon helped the driver load her suitcase into the trunk, and told him to drive to the nearest restaurant that was still open. Once they were finally in the car, they were allowed to drop their acts. He looked at her and sighed.
“You decided to go for Olivia, of all things?” he inquired. “We need to call less attention to ourselves, not more.”
Ekou’s ears burned, and she whispered, “I’m sorry.” Amon waved it off, and told her to just keep her voice quieter next time.
As the car made its way through Queens, she recounted the exciting tale of how she broke into Duel Academia’s administrative headquarters in Domino City, as well as the somewhat less-exciting part about making photocopies of all the records, putting all of the originals back exactly as they were, and replenishing the paper in the copy machine. (Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to do anything about the ink; she’d hoped that she hadn’t used enough that people would notice.) Finally, the chauffeur found a restaurant, which happened to be a 24-hour pizza joint. Since parking was nearly impossible to find in New York even at this time of night, he would drive his car around until they were done. Ekou decided to leave her hat and jacket in the car, at Amon’s advice.
The restaurant was a pretty basic place, with a neon sign over the door, fluorescent lights and tile flooring inside, several pizzas on display at the checkout counter, and a soda fountain machine in the corner. There were no other customers in here at the moment, which was a mixed blessing: fewer people to overhear them, yet quiet enough that they’d have to be careful so the staff wouldn’t catch on to anything.
“What’ll it be for you two?” the lady behind the counter asked. Her eyes looked a little sleepy, as if she’d been on the verge of nodding off when they’d walked in.
“One medium pepperoni pizza, please. For here,” Amon said. Just then, Ekou’s stomach made an audible growl, and she looked down at the floor in embarrassment. “Hm. On second thought, make that a large.”
“Okay. And what’s your name?”
“Daniel Shaughnessy,” Amon told the lady without so much as an instant of hesitation. Well, at least Ekou knew what his character was called now. Come to think of it, though, she was pretty sure that he’d never used this alias before, at least not around her. She wondered where he’d gotten it from.
They sat down in one of the plastic booths with their cups of ice water; they both tried to avoid refined sugar when possible. Amon obviously saw the unasked question in Ekou’s eyes.
“He died. A long time ago,” he explained somewhat tersely.
“I’m sorry,” she said once again.
“Don’t be. It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s see those papers, shall we?” He said the last sentence in Japanese, which they always switched to when they had to have a private conversation in a public place. After checking to ensure that no one was paying undue attention to them, Ekou opened her briefcase and retrieved a manila folder. As Amon was looking down to take the papers out, she snuck a glance at him. Her heart fluttered at just how handsome he was, even under these unflattering fluorescent bulbs. His Grecian profile was stunning to look at…not to mention those muscles. All of his hard work at the gym had paid dividends. She briefly felt that she was about to swoon at the sheer power of his presence, although she supposed that at least part of that could be due to low blood sugar.
“All right. This is our main target,” he told her, flipping the page around momentarily so she could see it. “Professor Guillermo Cobra…obviously not his actual last name, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that wasn’t his real first name either. Age 42. Born in Bogota, Colombia. Served in the military for 21 years, and was honorably discharged 3 years ago; apparently, he was the sole survivor of a plane crash and never the same after. Currently teaches at West Academy in London. Never married. One child, now deceased.” He put the paper back into the folder. “I’d like to find out more about that plane crash, if possible. It might be the key to unraveling this whole mystery.”
All Ekou said in response was “Hm.” Her Japanese wasn’t quite as good as his, and it was especially difficult to keep up with the conversation when he was talking so quietly. Meanwhile, Amon started looking through the rest of the pages; although he didn’t show these to her, he offered a running commentary of the highlights.
“Austin O’Brien, age 17. Born in Lagos, Nigeria to parents who emigrated from America. Has lived in several different African countries, including Sudan, Somalia, Zimbabwe, DRC…my guess would be that he’s a child soldier, although it doesn’t outright say that. Is currently the West Academy Champion. Next is Jim Cook, known as “Crocodile.” Age 17; turns 18 in October. Born in Darwin, Australia, and attends South Academy in Sydney.” Here he broke off, squinting at the paper as if he was confirming that he’d read something correctly. “Has a pet crocodile that he carries around on his back, named Karen. She even gets her own picture.”
“Aren’t crocodiles like ten feet long?” Ekou wondered aloud.
“Maybe she’s a really small one,” Amon replied. “Finally, we have Johan Andersen, age 16. Born in Aalborg, Denmark. The champion at North Academy, which is located northeast of Anadyr, Russia. Wielder of the Gem Beasts. And that’s all the info on this paper. Not even a photo of him.” He brow furrowed. “Are you certain that you got all of it?”
She nodded. “Positive. I double-checked.” She’d been a little confused about that herself.
“All right then. If that’s the way they want to do it…” He paused to put the papers back into the folder and hand it back to her. However, he never got the chance to finish his sentence, since the woman at the counter called over to them.
“Shaughnessy? Your pizza’s ready.” In an instant, Amon slipped back into his character, as well as into speaking English.
“Awesome. Thanks a bunch,” he told the lady. He got up to retrieve their prize, and a famished Ekou started in on it almost the instant that the metal pan made contact with their table. It was cheap, it was greasy…and it was also possibly the best damn pizza she’d ever eaten in her life. She noted that before Amon dug in, he made the sign of the cross and whispered a short prayer…maybe in Latin? Basically, the only Latin she knew was Cogito ergo sum. But even in the midst of wolfing down her second slice, she thought it was so clever of him to both come up with a new alter ego and make a detailed history down to what Daniel Shaughnessy’s religion was. She herself had never bothered to do that with her characters.
“Oh, and I looked at your file, too,” she told him in Japanese between slices two and three. “Everything seems in order. East Academy changed your birth year, as was requested.” They’d moved it from 1988 to 1989 on their records, to disguise the fact that Amon was eighteen and had already in fact graduated from the Academy. True, there were countless other sources that would show the correct date…however, Father seemed confident that the principal at the main branch of Duel Academia was too incompetent to so much as think about investigating further.
Between them, they managed to polish off the entire pizza. Now that she had a full belly, Ekou felt her eyes begin to grow heavy. Amon quickly paid the bill and took out his flip phone, calling the chauffeur to bring the car around.
The trip to the Garam estate was a relatively long one…about forty miles, and it would take nearly an hour for them to get there. The sound of the engines lulled Ekou into a stupor, and she fell asleep shortly after the driver turned onto the Belt Parkway, her head slumped over and her cheek resting on the seatbelt. The next thing she was aware of was Amon poking her in the arm and whispering, “We’re here.”
The chauffeur opened the door for her, and she stumbled out into the garage, which was so massive that Ekou had always thought it resembled an airplane hangar more than anything else…although their family had one of those as well. Her original plan had been to go straight to her room and crash on the bed, but that changed slightly when Amon walked up next to her and gave her two discreet taps on the inside of her wrist. This was a silent way of informing her that he had need of her services tonight, and not of the espionage type. She quickly gave one tap back, which meant, Sure, see you in a few. Two taps meant no, but she rarely used it, nor did she want to.
After all, when they were alone in her room, joining their bodies, they weren’t Olivia and Daniel, or Kaylee and Matt, or Brigitte and Jean-Paul. They were themselves, and that was the way she liked it best.