Chapter Text
Aoi Kurashiki sat in the latest Crash Keys command centre, feet propped up on the row of in-built control consoles. The screens above his head flipped from one image to the next, and Aoi followed them with a carefully measured detachment. The information displayed up there was important: assignments for various Crash Keys agents, reports on that incident up in Minnesota… even updates on the stock market, no longer the sole lifeline it had been for them as children but still the fuel that allowed everything else to happen. But that importance wasn’t why Aoi was paying it attention.
It didn’t take long until the info Aoi wanted to see – something he could use – flashed by. In an instant he was in action, though he took care not to let any hint of his urgency be seen by the other Crash Keys members in the centre. After scribbling on a piece of paper he waved it in the direction of the nearest agent.
“Take this report to my sister. She needs to know about these updates from New Mexico.”
Then, only a minute after that first agent had scurried away: “We’ve got some concerns about the vehicle pool. Check ’em out and make sure their engines don’t explode on the highway again.”
After that: “Arrange a meeting to plan the next operation.”
All of these were an integral part of the running of Crash Keys, sure. All of them needed to be done. But the only reason Aoi had for ensuring they were all done at once was to empty the control centre of everyone else and be able to access the computers alone.
The truth was, ever since the two of them had slipped away from Building Q Akane had started to leave Aoi out of certain key facets of her objectives. He was well aware that the Nonary Game wasn’t the end of their mission; if anything they’d only ramped up in the year afterwards, recruiting more members and expanding their information-gathering options. Akane had never explicitly said she was excluding him. On the surface she seemed to be relying on him as much as ever, as evidenced by his position in this control centre. He still had his role, collating incoming information from across the entire organisation and passing out new instructions to their operatives. But Aoi knew that surface impression wasn’t the truth. The hole in what he’d been given access to was apparent to him, whether Akane acknowledged it or not.
Aoi wasn’t going to take it anymore.
Today was the day for him to uncover what his sister had been keeping from him. What he already had access to ought to be enough for that. And he knew that Akane would spend the day occupied by a dozen different small crises; the courier he’d sent ought to keep her away even longer. He swung his feet down to the floor, vigorously spun his chair to face the nearest computer console, and booted it up.
After half an hour of searching, Aoi realised what was confounding his efforts. As he encroached on the pieces of information Akane had kept away from him, he could start to identify the general shape they took: something about some fucked-up cult operating in the shadows in much the same way that Crash Keys itself did.
But at every step of the way he was confounded by other pieces of info that he also hadn’t seen before. A certain morphogenetic experiment, bringing back alarming but inconclusive results. Cases of agents experiencing debilitating headaches or mental breaks, with no known cause. Even, in later reports, hints of another group of fanatics; Aoi only realised they weren’t in any way related to the first cult after a painstaking delve into the evidence.
No wonder he’d assumed they were yet more pieces of the big thing Akane was keeping from him. And no wonder that, having mistakenly thought everything he was finding was part of one big whole, he’d spent most of his time searching being led completely astray. In the end, he settled for filtering out everything past June 2028. It was a blunt instrument, but at least he’d know everything left was relevant.
Once he’d done that Aoi was able to spot and understand the connections that tied everything else together. It was only then that Aoi was able to identify the cult, this so-called ‘Free the Soul’, and realise that several operations that Akane had told him were unconnected were in fact all targeting individuals connected to them.
With this information in hand he delved deeper into the computer network, ready to make some actual progress. He was now able to identify, with a bitter ironic smirk, the layers of obfuscation that his sister had used to keep him from piecing this together even while engaged in his role in Crash Keys. With a great deal of effort he worked his way to what had to be the key document, stored in a location you’d only search if you already knew what you’d find there. It had been authored by Akane, it had ‘Free the Soul’ as the main part of its title, and it seemed to be a summary of everything known about the terrorist cult. Aoi opened it up and read the first line.
‘I know you’re reading this, Aoi.’ Beneath that and above Akane’s signature was today’s date.
That had been… entirely too predictable. But Aoi didn’t have time to reflect on that at all. At the exact same moment the sharp scowl formed on his face, and before he could read even a single word more of Akane’s document, klaxons sounded across the Crash Keys base.
Aoi sprung to his feet. As the red of the warning lights swept and danced across the control centre he strode towards the way out. Only to find that just before he touched the door it opened itself. On the other side stood Akane, arms folded.
Aoi put on a self-assured smirk. “Okay. You didn’t need to rub it in,” he said.
Akane’s eyes widened; a confused gasp escaped her lips. “What do you mean?”
“I read your message.” Aoi gestured nonchalantly in the air. It was usually best to let Akane have her all-knowing fun. “That’s what this is about, right?”
“That’s…” Akane trailed off, shaking her head briskly. “This is something else. What you found doesn’t matter until after we’ve sorted this out.”
After all the effort he’d put into finding it?
“It’s just a coincidence this emergency happened at the same time you found that message. I couldn’t believe it, but it’s true. This emergency is real, and Crash Keys will truly be in danger if we don’t solve it.”
Aoi felt his awareness sharpen. Everything about Akane’s bearing, and everything coming through their shared connection, said that this was far more crucial than some morphogentically-powered practical joke. At least she was letting him in on it, this time. “What’s this about?” he asked, his tone serious in an instant.
Akane answered his question, her voice tense in a way Aoi hadn’t really heard since the day she had laid out, at age twelve, the plan to retroactively save her from the incinerator.
“I think we’ve made a terrible mistake.”