#verse:the eternal spiral

[quantumsnipers]

Mnemophobia

     A body frozen, breath gasped in while orchestral music drifts around him mixed with the quiet chatter and bustle of people. The equivalent of his life flashing before his eyes, the choices that led up to this point in a split second as he could only stare wide eyed in shock….

     Neil’s lips ticked up into a small smirk as he heard the sharp click of a weapon cocking behind his head.  His hands came up next to his head from where he had been closing his front door, at the familiar nudge of a barrel at the base of his skull. He was hardly surprised, returning to a mercenary life as a sniper after Celestial Being had turned his existence on its head, he had up heaved the existing hitman hierarchy overnight. And he had kept it in disarray ever since by failing to align himself with any one side after all this time.  He took only contracts that he saw as fitting with his personal code and since he was the best at his job, he could name his price.  He had a list of people who would love to see him gone, but only a few of the names on that list had the guts to try.  Even fewer who could have gotten in his place without him realizing.

     “Lockon Stratos.”

     The smirk quickly dropped into a frown as his back went ramrod straight. That title and voice efficiently cut straight thru the mental list to a very specific set of people.  None of whom he was particularly looking forward to seeing. He turned his head to glare over his shoulder, disregarding the dangerous press of metal to his head.  Sure enough, a form familiar from memory of fluffed up black hair and tan skin coolly met his gaze from behind the silenced small caliber barrel. His lips thinned in a tight line as he drug his eyes back to the door, knocking it fully closed with his hip before his hands dropped; he pulled the padded strap of his rifle bag from his shoulder and settled the weight of the bag in the corner, wedged between the wall and side table.  

      “That’s not my name anymore, Setsuna.”  He moved farther into his apartment, disregarding the other male tracking him with a steady weapon arm. He pulled the fridge open and grabbed a beer, cocking the bottle questioningly at the younger, and being met with nothing more than his normal impassive stare, shrugged and closed the appliance door. He tapped the lid of the bottle against the side of his counter, popping it off and ignoring the small spilling of carbon fizz as he leaned back against the sink and took a swig.

     “I’m here to bring you back to Ptolemy.” Setsuna’s voice was as bland as Neil remembered, and his lips quirked in a sardonic half smirk against his will at the nostalgia, even as memories flashed behind his eyes of things that ripped the wounds of his mind and heart fresh open. Memories of aubergine and crimson, cold and calculating overlaid with flashes of curious gaze and tentative touch.  

     “Ptolemy was destroyed.” Screams and explosions, decompression and alarms blaring...quiet, distressed words over a com... Things that still haunted his nightmares and that even alcohol couldn’t dull on the worst days.  “And even if it was rebuilt, I left her “crew” and I’m not going back.”  He let his inflection speak for the reference to Celestial Being. Setsuna hadn’t said it, and he may not be planning on going back, but damned if he would turn over a prior ally by lack of discretion.  Never knew who was listening.

     The gun may have already been on him, but the hardening of Setsuna’s gaze at his denial was more concerning, making Neil’s fingers twitch with desire for his own weapons concealed around the apartment.  He took another swig of beer both to appear nonchalant to the other, keep his own concern hidden. He almost froze as Setsuna reached for his pocket but slowly lowered the bottle as he only pulled a piece of paper from an inner pocket.  One handed, Setsuna flicked the folded paper open, and Neil’s eyes narrowed at the picture that was almost like looking in a mirror. He would have assumed that it was his own image, if not for the stats listed underneath.   “Is that a threat, Setsuna?” His voice had gone cold and he was tight as a bowstring, this was a ploy he thought Sumeragi would have better sense than to risk. He knew it had to come from her, Setsuna wasn’t devious enough for this, he’d rather have just shot him.

     “We need a pilot speced to the Dynames class. You are still alive and Sumeragi’s first choice since we have lost contact with Veda’s analyzing process. If you refuse, I have orders to retrieve your twin as he is the only other valid choice that won’t require alterations that take time we don’t have.  He is part of Katharon and will make a suitable replacement.”

     Neil’s gaze flickered from the paper to Setsuna a few times, judging his resolve and, sadly as expected, finding it solid.  He wasn’t bluffing. Neil had his suspicions about his twins extra curricular activities, but lacking the ties he’d had when with Celestial Being, and not wanting his current clients to ferret out any outside attempts to gather intel, lest it be used against him, he had only clung to the hope he was mistaken.  Silently cursing his impulsive estranged sibling, he pushed aside memories of quiet conversations about introducing him someday with “this is classified information” being hissed at him. He quickly failed to hold his stoicism under the memories and new information, all but snarling at the younger male as he cursed and hurled the half-empty bottle against the kitchen wall. Setsuna was holding his weapon two handed, stance steady, when he calmed down enough to turn his attention back to him. Neil scoffed at him, and threw open a cabinet, dragging out a bottle of unlabeled poitin alcohol. He gulped a few swallows of it straight out of the bottle, ripping it away just to gasp a breath and drag the back of his wrist across him mouth.

      His glare was hard as he stalked out of the kitchen, bottle still in hand, stalking straight past the shorter meister.  He didn’t even give the weapon following him a second glace as he slammed open his coat closet and dragged out a duffle bag, throwing a coat, belt-pouch with clips, a couple small ammo boxes, and a .357 torn out from under the coffee table into it, despite Setsuna spiting his code name again in warning. He merely took another swig of the alcohol and stuffed a shirt, pulled from its place hanging over a chair nearby, on top and shoved it all down into the bag. He dragged the strap diagonal over his chest, hauled his rifle bag out of the corner and up on his free shoulder, chugged the remainder of the poitin and slammed the bottle on to the side table as he turned the glare on Setsuna.

     “Put that shite away and take me to Sumeragi.  Your just the messenger boy and I wont let you near my brother, I’ll make her understand myself.”

      The trip back spaceside went without incident physically, though the memories of the last times he had been in space weighed heavily on his mind. Neil kept himself under tight control, all he needed was for Setsuna to decided he was psychologically unfit and make the call to go with his twin after an unfortunate accident.  He held himself together thru the trip to rendezvous and back to the ship.  He left Setsuna behind as he floated thru the halls toward the bridge.  He was met by Sumeragi before he got there, and he followed her without comment to a briefing room.  By the end of their “conversation” there was a minor crowd around the doorway, even Setsuna not willing to intervene despite the random sounds that could easily pass for a knock down drag out fight punctuated by screaming.  When the door finally slid open, and Neil staggered out (a feat considering zero-g weight), he was bleeding from several places and clutching a dislocated shoulder. Sumeragi was worse for wear but it was clear his re-acclimation to zero-g had put him at a sever disadvantage.  He was medicated and returned to his room.

      This, unfortunately, turned out to be a bad idea.  With his body and mind already stressed, he lapsed into the memories of the day they lost the Virtue and he had a minor mental breakdown resulting in the room being trashed.  He was found later by his mech’s Haro and eventually was coaxed out of the room due to re-acclimation training for an upcoming mission while they repaired the suite.  He has never fully readjusted to sleeping in the room, frequently suffering from extreme nightmares, insomnia, and other issues. He, just as often as actually sleeping in the room, was found passed out in a surplus storage room, that in the original Ptolemy had been designed for a certain computer system interface. However, with Veda out of reach, the rebuild design deemed the inclusion of the interface a waste of resources, and as such the space was allocated for extra storage.  

       Having been basically strong armed into rejoining the organization, Neil was much more subdued in his interaction with the crew. Instead of the warm big brother he had been, he was more prone to his mercenary personality being prominent. He secluded himself outside of missions and started to rival Sumeragi in drinking. It didn’t significantly affect his piloting abilities, but it made him distrustful and distant from the others where he used to be a binding front for the crew.  He was always having to be ordered into missions he would have easily done without any prompting before.  As such, when the infiltration mission for the A-Laws ball came up, it was a scene to get him to agree. He eventually relented to the logic that he was the best option for the mission despite his being out of practice.  And, under duress, found himself in a tux and schmoozing with the upper echelon of the government that wanted to keep their own law enforcement in power, as he searched for this elusive ESF leader.