I Shall Not Want

A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update, but you know how life is. Since it's taken me so long, some of you might not remember all the code names I'm making you deal with, so I'm including a little guide. Please comment if you're still reading this, would you?

Iruka=Dagon, Lieutenant Ravi
Kakashi=Captain Jackal, Lieutenant Janak
Sai=Hydra


Part 12: Infinite Universes in the Bowl of a Spoon


Two days later, Jackal is checking in with the team. Schuldig and Jei are the only ones with interesting news.

::We had a meeting with David Quinto,:: Jei says. ::He has some fascinating toys.::

::If you're into knives, at least,:: Schuldig adds.

::You posed as buyers?:: Jackal asks.

::Yeah, buyers from across the sea looking for ninja or chakra-related gear that civilians could use,:: Schuldig responds.

Dagon shifts on the couch, his eyes unfocused on the wall in front of him. He can almost see the rest of the team sitting in their own apartments. ::Did he show you anything interesting?:: he asks.

::He only had a couple of chakra-infused guns and some interesting electric weapons; the rest were pretty standard civilian fare. He had something interesting to say, though. He managed to set up a meeting with a few of the guerrillas in Akatsuchi City, who wanted to see what his stock was like.::

::Does he know where the base is?:: asks Jackal.

::No, they met with him outside the city limits, unfortunately,:: Schuldig sighs.

::Did he say anything else interesting?:: Jackal presses, getting up from his own spot on the couch and pacing back and forth in front of Dagon. Jackal often paces when he's thinking hard, provided he's in private. Dagon doesn't really count as company.

::He did. He wanted to meet with the head of the guerrillas to try and work out an arms deal, but was told they didn't need guns and that no one meets with the Glass Man,:: says Jei, sounding vaguely amused.

::Glass Man?:: Hydra says.

::Apparently, the Glass Man is the one behind the guerrilla operations. Ergo, our target,:: Schuldig concludes. ::He couldn't get a name or any other information.::

::That's definitely something to work with,:: Dagon muses.

::Nasu Yuuko mentioned a Glass Man when I talked to her last night,:: Hydra says. ::She said the daimyo is frustrated because he can not get the right connections to set up a meeting. She was under the impression that the Glass Man was in the capitol.::

::Why would the daimyo want to meet with the Glass Man?:: asked Jackal. ::Does the daimyo know about his involvement with the guerrillas?::

::She did not know anything else, Captain. I could have questioned her more thoroughly if I had known that name had any significance.::

::I dance for her tomorrow,:: Nagi chimes in. ::I will see if she knows anything more. She is very gossipy when she drinks; it will not be difficult.::

::Good,:: Jackal says. ::This could be our best lead yet.::

::The Director General is not panning out?:: Hydra asks.

::He's involved in some huge tax evasion scheme and is planning a city-wide boycott of all ninja services, but other than that I don't think he has anything to do with ninjas at all,:: Jackal admits. ::Dagon's and my next task will be to see if anyone at the department knows anything about this Glass Man. Anyone have anything on Mohinder Takatori?::

::He has not been around lately,:: Hydra informs. ::The mafia has been involved in the riots on the Bandu side, and he has been organizing them strategically since the first hysterical outbreak.::

::Is that why the riots are persisting?:: Dagon asks. He and Jackal have not been in the middle of any more riots, but they hear about them daily. Nothing as brutal as the first day, but brutal enough.

::One of the reasons, definitely,:: Hydra concludes. ::They are petering out now, though, since the looting and pillaging has spread beyond the scope of religious conflict and the police are mobilizing in most areas. Not yours, of course, but it's been relatively quiet over there anyway, hasn't it?::

::I don't think our Glass Man has anything to do with the riots, at least not in a way that's useful to us,:: Jackal says. ::By all means, question Takatori if he comes in to have you dance for him, but I don't think he's a lead we need to actively pursue right now. Let's work with what we have. It's more than I expected; if Quinto can be believed, this is a very lucky break.::

::He can be believed if I'm any judge,:: Schuldig says.

::He's all kinds of judge,:: Jei says.

::He is good at deciphering honesty,:: Nagi grudgingly admits.

::Nagi? That was you?:: Schuldig sounds very surprised. ::A compliment from the cynical singularity? I may weep!::

::Alright, let's get back to work,:: Jackal says. ::Unless one of you has something useful to add.::

A few soft murmurs of ::No, Captain.::

::We'll wrap this up, then. Let me know the minute you get anything on the Glass Man.::

A firmer chorus of ::Yes, Captain.::

::Captain out,:: Jackal announces. That has become his signal to end a team meeting.

Dagon blinks and comes back to himself, becoming present in their living room once again. “Time for work, Captain?”

Jackal checks his watch. “We've got a few minutes, but we might as well head over now.”

“Right.”

As they walk to the station, Dagon is vaguely reminded again of a movie he saw as a child, 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers.' Dagon has a slight sense that he and Jackal are pod people who have taken over Iruka and Kakashi. It doesn't bother him at all, but he can't help the parallel from striking him.

It has become easy for Dagon to take over, since Kakashi admitted that Iruka's feelings were disturbing him. Dagon is glad they had that conversation. He's been completely focused on the mission since then, although he hasn't found out anything essential. This would frustrate him if he let it. He doesn't.

He had gone into the central district yesterday, where the Director General's office resides, under the guise of needing to go to court. Sneaking into the Director's office was easy, and cracking his safe was just as easy even without chakra—during his genin days he had mastered the art of divining civilian combination locks. But all he'd found out were the same things Jackal found out from their precinct captain—that he was evading taxes and trying to undermine the ninja system in Wind Country. Interesting, but nothing the ANBU could use.

If Dagon needed something as trivial as consolation, he would have been consoled by the fact that Jackal hadn't found out anything essential either.

Now that they are armed with a name of sorts, perhaps they will be able to find out something interesting and useful. If they don't, Jackal will probably have them abandon the police station altogether, and go to work with Schuldig and Jei. Dagon doesn't think he would mind that, but he'd rather stay where they are for now.

*-*-*-*

Dagon is combing the records again, wading through files on the mafia including Mohinder Takatori. Even if he's not the best lead, Dagon's been through the files on the Director General and what few records pertain to Nasu Yuuko with a fine-toothed comb already, and the police have extensive files on Takatori. He 's searching every line for some sort of reference to the Glass Man or anyone who might lead to him, when Jackal tosses something onto the table in front of him.

Dagon pulls off his reading glasses and picks up the small device. It looks like a glass disk with silver spiderwebs running through it. “This is...didn't we see one of these in Suna?”

::It's the chakra cloaking device,:: Jackal silently confirms. ::Turns out it has an extremely variable range. This one was set to cloak an entire building. It was hidden rather ingeniously on the roof; I almost had to take out a wall to retrieve it.::

Dagon's brow draws down as he turns over the device. The disk is a perfect circle, and the silver webbing--wires? Solder?--is only asymmetrical enough to look artistic. It looks deliberate, as though aesthetics are as important as function, but since Dagon doesn't know how it was made he can't draw any conclusions from it. ::Where did...you got this from the roof? The station roof?::

Jackal sits down, speaking aloud but very softly. There is no one around, but it pays to be prudent. “It was actually on a roof a few blocks over. I noticed the absence of chakra just by chance—well, not by chance; it's pretty obvious we were supposed to notice it. We can definitely conclude that our target knows we're here, and I think he knows who we are.”

“Wait a minute,” Dagon says, holding up his hands. “Back up. You were walking down the street minding your own business, and suddenly you notice an absence of chakra in a place where there are obviously people. Is that right?”

“That's right. So I triangulated to find the source of the absence, and tracked it to this building.”

“What building?”

“A bank. I searched the whole building from roof to sub-sub-basement, couldn't find anything except this device on the roof.”

Dagon frowns. “They left it there for us to find? That seems...really random.”

“It's very random. Especially considering that this is not the only device that's been set up around the city this way.” Jackal folds his arms, staring at Dagon, waiting for him to come to whatever conclusions Jackal's already come to.

“There are more of these?”

“I have Schuldig and Jei on the prowl for them, and they've already found at least fifty of them.”

“Fifty?!”

“And it looks like there are probably hundreds more set up. I don't know how long they've had to do this or how long it's taken us to notice. Apparently these things are either very cheap to manufacture, or money really isn't an object. Maybe both; these have such a deceptively simple-looking construction...”

Dagon takes a breath, mind racing. “So they're setting up cloaking devices randomly. Ergo, they want to hide something.”

“And they want to slow us down by making us check each and every building, park, factory, whatever it is that they've cloaked. The odds of us actually finding what we're looking for that way are astronomical, given that time is not on our side.”

“But I don't understand why they would start throwing cloakers around if they really wanted to hide, Captain. Doesn't this just draw our attention to them? Wouldn't they have been better off doing nothing?”

“My guess is that they were already cloaking themselves when we got here. One chakra-free area, once we found it, would be a pretty big give-away. A hundred of them, or two hundred, or however many they've scattered around, hides them pretty effectively.”

Dagon can't help thinking something's wrong with this scenario. It hits him after a second. “This is not our target's usual M.O. I mean, if he knows who and where we are, we should be fighting for our lives, shouldn't we? We should be running into whoever killed all of our ANBU predecessors, not playing some advanced version of cat and mouse.”

“Precisely what's troubling me,” Jackal admits. “It seems instead of straightforward killing, we're being drawn into a game. I have no idea why that would be, and I don't like it.”

Dagon allows himself a small, blank smile. “Perhaps they're aware of your identity, Captain. A lot of people want to test their mind and mettle against Sharingan Kakashi.”

Jackal grunts softly in affirmation. “Possible. Or they've tired of just killing us, and want to toy with us first. Or there's an objective we're not seeing.” He stands up. “Keep your mind chewing on that while you go through the files. I'm going to help Schuldig and Jei search some of these buildings, until someone comes up with something better to do.”

“Shouldn't we look for marks of manufacture on these?” Dagon says, holding up the glass disc.

“I took it down to the lab already. It's totally untraceable, every part. The tech couldn't even tell me what metal it's got in it; it's some kind of alloy he's never seen before.”

Dagon raises a brow. “You showed this to a civilian lab tech?”

Jackal waves a hand impatiently. “Schuldig and I fed him a story. He's excited to be involved in international espionage, and he's as loyal to me as can be in such a short amount of time. He's not a problem.”

“Of course, Captain. I wasn't questioning your judgment.” He turns the cloaking device over in his hand. “How did you turn this off?”

“You use chakra to interrupt the circuit. It's really rather ingenious. A tiny, tiny flicker of chakra turns it on, so tiny that you'd only notice it in the complete absence of any other chakra source. That much is enough to cloak a person, and then you can put more chakra into it to widen the field, all the while being cloaked by it. And it has to be turned off deliberately; the chakra circuit is self-perpetuating, like a seal. Left on their own, these could last for months. Even years, for all I can tell. If I had time and the proper resources to study them...”

“Let's be sure to take some back to Konoha with us. No doubt Tsunade and Ibiki would want to make use of them.” Iruka taps his spectacles against the table a few times. “I wonder what else our target has come up with. It seems like he's inventing and manufacturing all this stuff himself, doesn't it?”

“It does. It should be a fairly sizeable operation. I'm thinking we should focus on the more industrial parts of town, somewhere you could move a lot of heavy equipment without anyone thinking twice about it. If he's inventing things for warfare, this is definitely not something he could do out of his garage, however small these particular devices are.”

“Agreed.”

Jackal turns and leaves without another word, and Dagon puts his glasses back on and falls back to his reading with a bit more vigor than before. Things might be starting to come together now that their target has shown himself--by cloaking, ironically enough.

*-*-*-*


It is lunchtime, and Dagon is wandering down 146th street, which he's done every day since he met Philip. He specifically walks by the tea shop, where he stops in for a cup of Earl Grey—Iruka's new favorite tea. Bergamot and black tea taste like a color to him, a dusky, heavy grey. He knows grey should be flat and have no defining characteristics, but Earl Grey tastes like the prelude to a storm, while sitting inside reading a big leather-bound book, snug in a blanket.

Dagon doesn't drink the tea for the same reasons Iruka does. He drinks it to keep his mind focused on the reason he's at the tea shop in the first place: he's deeply mistrustful of his encounter with Philip.

Iruka didn't notice anything wrong, but Dagon has gone over and over the meeting in his mind, and he thinks that even if he was Iruka at the time, he warmed up to Philip far too fast. Iruka knows what it is to be on a mission, and he knows that coincidences hardly ever turn out to be coincidental. Dagon wants to know what was wrong with that meeting, whether it turns out to be a personal failing or something else.

He feels instinctively that Philip's remarks about big cities being small worlds and recommending that shop to him mean that he's destined to encounter the old man there, if he'll encounter him at all.

So it is with no great surprise that he comes upon the man himself, sitting rather primly at an outdoor table, drinking an iced red brew from a heavy crystal glass.

“Why, it's Ravi!” says Philip, rising as Dagon approaches, a pleasant smile on his face. “I had hoped you would happen along. I've practically staked this place out, hoping to find you meandering in this district.”

“Hello, Philip,” Dagon says, smiling sunnily. “I've come here often since you mentioned Earl Grey. I'm surprised we haven't run into each other before now.”

“Ah, well, I usually only drink tea in the morning or evening. This afternoon I was feeling rather desiccated, so I thought I'd plump up my dry old flesh before the vultures start pecking at it.”

“I know, I still can't get used to this dry heat.” Dagon continues to smile as he analyzes Philip's body language, facial expression, intonation. He can't find anything suspicious.

“Don't get an old man started,” Philip grouses. “Well, sit, my lad! Now we've met, you'll have to stay a while, yes? Give a bit of company. That is, if you're not already on your way elsewhere?” He raises a brow.

“I was on my way here, actually,” Dagon says, sitting down at the table. Philip politely waits for him to seat himself before taking his own seat and drinking a long swallow of his tea. “Is that good?” Dagon asks.

“Ah,” Philip gulps, smacking his lips. “It's a little fruity for my taste. Rooibos and red currant. It's very refreshing, though; shall I have them bring you a glass?” He waves to the shop attendant without waiting for Dagon's permission.

Dagon has never drunk anything from this shop that he hasn't brewed himself, and since he can't use chakra to check for hidden poisons that can't be sussed out the civilian way, he doesn't plan to. Luckily he's trained in the art of sleight of mouth, and when the attendant brings him a large glass of fragrant iced tea, he's able to seem to take a huge gulp of it without ingesting it or spitting it all over the sidewalk.

“Decent, isn't it?” asks Philip. “I know it's rather touristy to drink it iced, but I find most days I can't enjoy a steaming cup under the hot sun, as the locals do. They claim it cools them off, you know. I'm not sure I believe them.”

“Not my cup of tea, so to speak,” Dagon admits. The taste in his mouth is pleasantly sweet and tart, but as Philip said, too fruity. “Good and cold, though. I'm not one for compounding my heat, either.”

“Cold is enough, out here, I find. There are days I wouldn't be hard-pressed to drink camel piss if it was cold enough. Or the local beer, though that might take more convincing.”

Dagon injects a laugh, trying to feel if there is anything wrong with how this conversation is going. So far it seems perfectly harmless. “I haven't tried either the local piss or the local beer. I'll stick with tea, I think. Even fruity tea.”

“The local cactus liquor is something worth trying,” Philip says. “Though I'd get it from a reputable dealer. No bathtub tequila, unless you fancy going blind and losing most of your marbles. The good stuff is quite potent enough. Certain brands can mimic the effects of peyote, without the vomiting. Well, unless you drink too much of it.”

“I don't really like to get drunk,” Dagon says. “I prefer to stay sharp.” A realization slices into him like a knife: that's not what Ravi would have said.

“An officer all the time, eh? Well, you did say you were your job, if I recall.”

Dagon does recall saying that. Yet another thing that doesn't fit his Ravi persona—Ravi wouldn't have a problem going out and getting drunk with the guys once a week or so; Ravi is a dedicated worker but isn't necessarily defined by his job. Who is he talking about? And more importantly, why? Dagon is a better ninja than that. So is Iruka. “I did say that,” he ventures cautiously, trying to appear casually thoughtful as he wracks his brain.

Philip peers at him curiously. “You seem more reflective today, Ravi,” he says after a moment. “You have to watch out for reflection. Reflections of every kind.”

Dagon raises a brow. It seems Philip's getting ready to spout some of his more confusing observations. “I'm not sure I follow.”

“Reflections are gateways to other worlds, my friend. You know that if you reflect a mirror in a mirror, you don't just get infinite mirrors. You get infinite doorways, if only you know how to open them. And they all lead somewhere just a little different.” He picks up the spoon that came in his glass of tea. “There are gateways to other worlds in every reflective surface, not just mirrors, you know. If you squint just right,” he continues, suiting actions to words, “you can see infinite universes in the bowl of a spoon.” He peers into his spoon as though expecting to unlock a great secret.

“I've only ever seen reflections in a reflective surface,” Dagon replies, injecting a note of amusement.

“That's only because your eyes haven't been trained to see properly, my friend. If you're very lucky—or unlucky—you can see someone from the other side of the reflection looking back at you, or calling to you, drawing you in, or coaxing you to draw them out.” Philip abruptly drops his spoon and laughs. “Either you get Alice and the Looking-Glass or a horror show, it seems. I don't think I've ever met a universe that was purely pleasant, solely wonderful. Perhaps such universes don't exist.”

“I've only met this universe, Philip.”

Philip looks up at Dagon and smiles, his expression clear and unguarded. “If you and circumstances allow, perhaps I can introduce you to a different one someday.”

Dagon can feel...something. Something in his brain seems to be opening him up, making him comfortable, making him want to join in a relaxed conversation without worrying about consequences or propriety. It's not unlike truth serum, the effects of which Ibiki trained him to withstand as a chuunin. But it's not the same, and he didn't drink any tea, so it has to be something else.

“Ravi? I haven't put you to sleep with my nonsense, have I?” Philip asks, sounding concerned.

Dagon still can't detect anything wrong with Philip, but he knows there's something wrong with this conversation. He has to end it. “No, no, I'm just—heh, you're right, I am reflecting. I've got a case at work that's just...well. Nothing I can go into.”

“I understand, I understand. A head full of upholding the law and all that.”

“Sure.” Dagon stands up, keeping a tight rein on his mouth. “I'm afraid duty is calling me back, Philip. I'll pass here again from time to time, perhaps I'll see you?”

Philip stands up as well, and gives Dagon the same vigorous handshake from their first meeting. “No question, my boy! Now that I know when you might come around, I'll make it a point to trundle by before my afternoon siesta when I can.”

Dagon's eyes would narrow if he was interested in telegraphing his thoughts. Instead, he says teasingly, “Don't you have a job?”

“I do indeed. I am one of those very lucky souls who gets to make their own hours, and I find I'm actually more productive if I do my research at night. Hence the siesta. My days I can spend drinking tea, rambling about and,” he drops a wink, “fighting crime. None of it efficiently, but what can one do.”

Dagon finds himself perilously on the cusp of spilling some of his own work habits, and forces his mouth shut. He smiles, a little tightly.

Philip notices. “Are you quite all right, Ravi?”

“Just not looking forward to going back to work,” Dagon sighs. “If I could drink tea and ramble about with you for the afternoon, I'd be perfectly content.” It wouldn't have been a lie if he was Iruka, and not on a mission, but Dagon is itching to get away from the man now. He's definitely going to talk to Jackal about this.

“I would enjoy that as well. Perhaps another day, yes?”

“Of course,” Dagon says, bowing slightly. He is about to turn away when something occurs to him. It might be unimportant, but... “Philip, might I ask your family name?”

Philip's eyebrows rise. “How rude of me, I've never mentioned it? My name is Philip Glazier, of the Hopfstead Glaziers. And by what name can your esteemed ancestors be summoned?”

Dagon scratches the back of his head, feigning a little self-consciousness. “Ah, I'm Ravi Morimoto. Of the Kyoujou Morimotos, not that I'd expect you to know them.”

Philip laughs. “Is that a subtle admonishment, my boy? Hopfstead is in another land, it's true, but old habits die hard, as they say. Kyoujou is in the south, yes? If I ever meet another Kyoujou Morimoto I shall be pleased to say I know you.”

“No admonition meant,” Dagon says, ducking his head a little. “I hope to see you again soon. Good day, Philip.”

He hardly hears Philip's polite adieu as he turns and walks away, his mind humming. He doesn't know how Philip fits into the picture that he and the ANBU team are trying to put together, or even if he fits into it at all, but he knows instinctively that Philip is someone they either need to avoid or keep an eye on. Jackal will know which.

*-*-*-*

“Why didn't you tell me about this man sooner, Dagon?” Jackal asks. He doesn't sound judgmental, or even curious. Dagon has no idea what he's really thinking.

They're at home on the couch, and Dagon's just finished describing both of his encounters with Philip to Jackal. He's made sure to relate as much of the exact conversation as he can, and give all of his impressions. He's not surprised by his captain's question; he's not really sure himself why he didn't say anything sooner. Perhaps as Iruka, he wanted to keep that first warm conversation private. He had barely had a reason to relate the conversation, really, any more than he had reason to relate all his other conversations with fellow officers, street vendors, or anyone else he talked to. Perhaps that was a rationalization. “I didn't think it was of any importance, Captain, until we talked a second time. I still doubt it has any import to our current mission, but since I feel that Philip Glazier is somewhat unusual, I can't help now but feel our meeting may not be a coincidence.”

“Perhaps you're right. But even if it is not a coincidence, it's not necessarily sinister. Except for a feeling that you're tempted to reveal too much in his presence, there is nothing noteworthy about him with respect to this mission, correct?” asks Jackal.

“Yes, but it feels like there may be something more to this than I'm seeing right now.”

“Feels?”

“It's just a hunch, but it's formidable enough to concern me.”

“Alright. Stay clear of this Philip, then; don't go near that tea shop. If you see him again anywhere else, inform me immediately. We don't need someone messing up our investigation at this juncture, just when we're finally getting somewhere. Tell the others, too, so they can be on the lookout for him.”

“Understood, Captain—wait.” Something has suddenly occurred to Dagon, that seems so far-fetched as to be absurd, but he doesn't think he should dismiss the notion. “There's one thing I forgot to mention.”

Jackal crosses his arms. “Go on.”

Dagon turns sideways on the couch so he can face Jackal a bit more. “It's probably nothing. I told you how he's a metaphysical theologist and a research analyst, but he also mentioned that he's a glass-blower. I know there are hundreds of glass-blowers in this city--”

“It does seem to be a popular profession. Especially in the Naarangee district, you can see them all over the streets.”

“Yes.” Dagon lifts his eyes to the ceiling, thinking.

Jackal narrows his eye. “You think Philip might be the Glass Man?”

“I think...that we can't afford to dismiss the idea. I know it's far-fetched, but if the Glass Man really is playing games with us, it's not so ridiculous to think he would have contacted us himself. I've already had the feeling that our first encounter wasn't random. Maybe even staged, dead cat and all.” He lowers his eyes again. “What do you think, Captain?”

Jackal is nodding. “All right. You've convinced me that this is a lead we should follow up on. Forget my earlier order; keep going to that tea shop and try to make contact again. I'm going to have Schuldig stake the place out while Jei and I keep checking buildings with the chakra cloaks. We'll concentrate on the ones in this area; if this Philip really is the Glass Man, it's probable that his operation is not too far away.” Jackal's lips turn up slightly. “Imagine that, if we settled ourselves right in his territory. Luck really is a shinobi skill.”

Dagon doesn't know if he'd call it luck, exactly, but he can see Jackal's point. “Understood, Captain.”

*-*-*-*

The next day, Dagon goes by the tea shop on his lunch hour, but Philip doesn't show himself. He is wary when one of the natives waves to him, but in a second the illusion falls away, and he realizes it is Schuldig.

::Should you be revealing yourself here?:: he sends, not sure he should go over to Schuldig's table.

“Idiot, I'm only revealing myself to you. No one can hear what we're saying, either, so you can talk, yeah? Don't worry.”

Dagon allows himself a grin. “Your jutsu definitely make life easier.”

Schuldig leans back in his chair indolently. It makes Dagon think of a big orange cat. “I'm so very spoiled, you know. It makes me a person of very dubious character, yeah? Lazy and manipulative. Jei's constantly reminding me of all that.”

Dagon weaves among the tables to sit down at Schuldig's, and relaxes a little. “I can't imagine Jei is merely a fine, upstanding citizen himself.”

“Oh, he means all that to be complimentary, and that's how I take it. Manipulation is a virtue, isn't it? In our world, at least. So is having a dubious character.”

Dagon almost laughs. “Don't tell Naruto that.”

“Oh, a fine, upstanding citizen, is he?”

“The finest.” Dagon has to push down a swell of pride, followed by a swell of frustration at the emotion.

Schuldig shakes his head, curling a finger around his bangs and tugging absently.

“Where is Jei, speaking of the devil?” Iruka asks. “Don't you have to be within range of him to use your jutsu?”

“Oh, we're in range, alright.” Schuldig grins, showing too many of his teeth. “He just doesn't feel sociable right now.”

Dagon isn't sure how he feels about having Jei around but being unable to see him, but he dismisses his concern. He has to trust his team, after all.

“Your Philip person hasn't been by today,” Schu says conversationally.

“I didn't really think it would be that easy, that he'd just show up as soon as we started really looking for him.” A car horn catches Dagon's attention, and he looks over to the street, where people are definitely not clearing away so a large sedan can barge through the street. He can't see into the car windows through the crowd.

Schuldig says, “You think that's him in the car? That would be some luck, yeah?”

Dagon raises a brow. “Can you check?”

“Already done. It's a woman. No one of interest, unless you're looking for a sugar-momma. Which I always am, but not when I'm on a mission. I do have some work ethics.”

“Hard to believe,” says Dagon, turning back to him.

They talk and banter back and forth until it's time for Dagon to go back to the station. Schuldig promises to notify him as well as Jackal if Philip shows up, and Dagon leaves in a rather pleasant mood.

The mood lasts until he gets back to the station to find he's pulled street duty for the afternoon, since one of the sergeants has gotten ill, and has to walk the beat. He was hoping to scour the computers for information, since he's gotten better and better at hacking over the past few years. He tamps down irritation and goes to meet his beat partner. It is one of the cops who was at the riots, the one who checked out his ass in the locker room the first day.

He smiles, his Ravi mask in place, and chatters aimlessly. His fellow officer—Ekanga, his name is—smiles placidly while at the same time looking like he wishes Ravi would just be quiet. It's a dynamic that puts Dagon at ease.

An uneventful hour and a half into their beat, they come across some barely pre-pubescent children fighting in an almost deserted street. The children are not Dalits, and they are really fighting hard. There are already bloody noses and deep scratches, and one of the children is holding a dripping hunk of hair.

He and Ekanga dive into the situation, separating the children roughly and shouting, even as some of the children turn on them. Dagon keeps an eye on Ekanga, in case he has trouble. Dagon can handle himself easily, of course, though he tries not to move too fast or do anything too acrobatic. Ekanga seems quite skilled himself, so Dagon concentrates more on the children around him. He's wondering if he'll need to mace some of them; they seem almost feral.

He notices, out of the corner of his eye, that one of the children has a knife. Ekanga notices too, and he's closer. He skillfully wrests the weapon from the child, and then slams that child up against a building. He puts the knife to the child's throat. The child looks terrified as it begins to draw blood.

Dagon hesitates for just a second; for just one second all his attention is focused on the point of that knife, and Iruka is fighting for freedom.

One second is all it takes for the dart to hit.

Someone was watching him very closely, he realizes, and he can see the window where the dart gun shot from. He turns to call Ekanga, but he already can't make his vocal cords work. One of the kids kicks his feet out from under him, and he goes down. He sees Ekanga chasing the kids away from him with his tonfa, whacking them in the back.

He can't move a muscle, and it just barely occurs to him that he should use the telepathic link to signal for help when he blacks out.