Kikunojo Kichiro woke up that morning in the same way he'd been waking up for almost a decade: Hacking his lungs to pieces. He sat bolt upright, ragged barking sounds tearing through his throat as he fumbled on the nightstand for a bottle of water. It was early, but the blackout curtains on his windows covered his tiny apartment in gloom.

His questing hand finally landed on the bottle. He spun off the cap and took several long swallows of the tepid water. It tasted faintly of dust. He had discovered within the first year of buying the old place that it didn't matter if he cleaned or not, as everything seemed to be covered in a permanent layer of detritus. Kichiro clenched his jaw and kept his eyes shut tight. This was it, the one blissful moment of peace when his mind hadn't fully woken up yet, before-

he killed me he killed me he-
MY BABY OH WHERE IS MY-
I will rain blood from the sky-
ohpleasehelpmeplease-

A thousand voices and senses pushed into his subconscious, fighting each other for dominance. They ran riot in his mind, threatening to tear it apart from the inside.

“Shut up.” Kichiro snarled quietly, jamming his knuckles against his temples to stave off the coming migraine. Abruptly the hoard of sensations dulled to an omnipresent hum of white noise as his mental shields slid into place.

Finally, Kichiro opened his eyes, and stumbled the three steps across his floor to the window. He reached up and jerked the curtain open. Brilliant sunlight flooded the small room. He felt a tiny ripple of distress from a number of minor spirits as the light burned them away. He blinked owlishly through the window, forcing his eyes to adjust to the light.

Okay. He thought. Here we go again.

The phone call had come the previous day in the early afternoon. Iori-san was one of the oldest agents still working, though his role was mainly clerical these days. He was the first contact Kichiro ever had with the Agency, what felt like a lifetime ago. A nice enough guy, always made sure Kichiro was compensated for his time, but he still was a slave to the system.
“They're having sort of a... Meet 'n greet for the Agents. Big wigs want you there.” The old man said over the phone, gruff and not the least bit apologetic.
“No way, man. Why? You call me when you need me, I don't have to hang around your clubhouse. That's been the deal.” Kichiro had replied.
“The times are changing, son. Agents are getting younger every year. Some of 'em whiz around in big ol' robots; I know you've seen that. If you'd have told me thirty years ago we'd have robots cuttin' up demons with swords, I'd have shot you. We got a girl now, fifteen years old, saw her throw a sedan a full city block once. Looked bored while doin' it, just kept eatin' pocky.”
“What's that got to do with me?”
“It's a flashier world. People like seein' that kind of crap, makes 'em feel like they're livin' in comic books. It's good for business to keep the public happy. And you... Well, you're a weird guy, Kichiro. You're damned good at what you do, son, but it's creepy. You make people uncomfortable. Some executives are starting to worry about paying a shifty low-life to chase around dead people, one who refuses to become an official agent at that. Come show your face, make nice, and we won't have to cut you off.”
Kichiro's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “I have no idea how to do that.”
Iori-san laughed, a rare noise from the old man. “Just fight the urge to be gloomy. They'll be calling you onii-san in no time.”
Kichiro hung up. He lit a cigarette and stared into the middle distance. Make nice?
A small, child like laugh echoed from his closet, which was filled top to bottom with books.
Kichiro chuckled too. Just another stupid joke.

The Yoshida Corporation headquarters was an architectural masterpiece. It stood like a shining glass monument atop a small hill. The compound included a less visually appealing parking lot in front of the building, but at least the parking lot was populated with shiny, expensive cars. The entire compound had a wall around the base of the hill, keeping rowdy kids from trespassing and vandalizing the beautiful and well-kept property. A large gate blocked the road up to the parking lot, only opening for vehicles that had passes or those who used the intercom system to the left of the gate itself. It was never left open for long periods of time. Behind the gate was a security booth. While the guard didn't immediately appear to be armed he certainly had some kind of device on him that appeared to be a high-tech taser. The road leading up to the parking lot was lined with manicured bushes and cherry blossom trees.

Going in from the front door was the large, open lobby. The glass front allowed plenty of sunlight to illuminate the room. There was a service desk against the back wall with a large television screen behind the attendant that constantly displayed various promotions for Yoshida Corp. products. In the center of the room was a small fountain with a hologram of the Yoshida logo floating above it with no projector within sight. This room would often be empty save for the attendant, due to the low amounts of traffic the headquarters would see every day. There were several people that rotated in and out of the front desk depending on the shift but today's shift belonged to Yoshida Suzume, one of the CEO's granddaughters. An attractive but unassuming woman, she spent most of her time behind that desk reading books. Her only real duty here was to greet personnel and guide any visitors or customers. Of course this wasn't her only job.

As Suzume turned the page of her fantasy novel a faint buzzing broke the silence of the lobby. Her personal phone, not the phone on the desk, was vibrating against the wood. She quickly placed a bookmark between the pages of her novel and set it down, taking up her phone in her other hand and tapping the screen. "Hello?" she answered, keeping her eyes on the small screen in her desk that showed a camera feed from the front gate.

"Yoshida Suzume, we're requesting you attend a meeting at the Outbreak Agency headquarters in two hours. This request has gone out to all of our operatives in the Tokyo area."

Suzume looked a bit confused, glancing away from the camera feed to look directly at the phone in her hand. "A meeting? May I ask about the content of this meeting? Is it an emergency?"

"No, this is not an emergency. But your attendance has still been requested as you are one of our agents. Our goal is to promote cooperation among our agents and as a step towards this we are requesting a meeting to allow our agents to have valuable time to get to know each other."

A frown formed on the woman's face as she looked back down at the screen on her desk. Part of the deal between the Yoshida Corp. and the Outbreak Agency was keeping Suzume's identity hidden from public knowledge. Meeting with the other agents was counter-intuitive to that end and Suzume knew it. "Fine. I will come to the meeting. But I will not be sharing personal details with any other agents."

The man on the other end hung up, ending the call. With a sigh she set her phone back down and instead picked up the landline on her desk. It only rang once before an older gentleman answered. "What is it, Suzume-chan?" he spoke up, his tone sounding slightly irritated as if he was interrupted by Suzume's call.

"The Outbreak Agency has called me in, father. I'll be leaving shortly." That was all the information that needed to be shared. As she hung up the phone she already knew that another secretary was being called in to take her position in the lobby. But more importantly the men in the lab were being informed that Suzume will be departing soon. The woman took her cellphone off the desk and exited the lobby through the door behind her rolling chair. At the back of the headquarters building was a small laboratory. Most of the Yoshida weapons development is done at a specific site several kilometers away but this small lab serves a specific purpose of arming and deploying Yoshida assassins, including Suzume. By the time the young woman arrived her bodysuit and weapons had already been prepared. It was like a glorified locker room, in Suzume's eyes. She had long since gotten over the anxiety of stripping down in front of the technicians who helped her put on her cybernetic bodysuit. The process was always quick and painless, and the technicians rarely brought up any awkward conversation while dressing her.

These assistants had done this process many, many times. Not only with Suzume but with others in the clan. It took them hardly two minutes to get Suzume's bodysuit on and operational, though Suzume could remember a time when it took three. After being given her sword, or rather the hilt of it, she was fully dressed and ready for combat. Of course these technicians had no idea that she wasn't actually going on a mission but instead going to a meeting. Suzume would never tell them the details of what she was about to do whenever they dressed her. Considering she's known these people for the better part of a decade she hardly considers them more than acquaintances. She rarely talks to them and never sees them outside of this room. One can consider them like a pit crew in racing, undressing and dressing her to make sure she can perform her duties. Of course they are also the ones that maintain her gear, repairing it and upgrading it when they aren't being used, but Suzume never sees them performing these tasks. It was awkward when she was younger and first getting used to this process but she has since come to see it as simply another part of her job.

Now that she was ready the technicians followed her out of the lab into a sort of garage. This was at the back of the building and housed all the vehicles of the Yoshida Corp. There were many trucks and supercars, but along the side wall was a line of motorcycles. As Suzume took her seat on her particular motorcycle the assistants unplugged it from the floor and ran a quick diagnostic check on both the vehicle and Suzume's suit. After being given the all-clear the motorcycle rumbled to life, slowly wheeling over towards the large garage door. The active camouflage of her suit began to kick in, rendering her invisible, and the motorcycle followed suit. By the time the garage door was opened there was nothing to see. As Suzume rocketed away from the building, the front gate already open for her departure, the kunoichi couldn't help but keep a mental note of the prep time.

Three minutes, thirty-six seconds...