Banned
Upon returning to the base, there was a sickly smell of cleanliness. It didn't quite feel like the tender caressing of the hospital's freshened air, with open windows and a charming blossom-lit world just beyond the panes. Instead, it reeked of artificiality. He hadn't quite forgotten the sensation, but the smell's potency was far stronger than he'd registered for the last three years. He felt very much the same when he was first brought on board during the reconstruction and formation of the NSF. He couldn't quite tell if it was oxygen pumped into the building or vent after vent dragging the exterior world inside. Knowing their safety regulations, it was probably both. Either way, through that sick artificiality was also the stench of tobacco being smoked in the little designated zones, or the flavoured taste of other vapes. One user, closer than the rest, actually caught him mid-motion through the main hall.
At first glance, Takai barely recognised the foreigner. She clearly wasn't of native origins, something that he'd found a bit hard to accept for the longest while. Those concerns, however, were vaporised by the time his limbs were. But this one wasn't too recognisable. Her pale skin, blue hair was rather standout for the crowd, and a combination that really set her aside from her contemporaries around her. Yet her attire and presence told of a much greater individual, one among the rafters above that looked down on operators like himself. However, her understanding approach left a good impression on him.
"I appreciate the invitation. Someone told me to find assistance when needed so..." He drifted off for a moment, looking around at the large hall. He couldn't tell if anything had changed. A few small areas had been repainted and the previously broken side panel, about five metres away from the main entrance, had been repaired. After a short pause, he looked back at her. "So do you deal with the returning augs, then?"
"Not officially, no." Caitlyn would respond, idly clicking a button on the vapourizer in her hand. "But, well, it's my area of expertise," she offered a small smile, "and an area I have personal experience with." She gestured noncommittally below her waist.
Her workmanlike mannerisms helped ease any awkwardness that Takai would have faced. It was easy to work with, and helped reinforce that despite his absence there were still accommodating individuals who took their line of duty seriously, even if she had less personal stake in the matter. And as she beckoned his eyes to look below her waist, he imagined she had hinted towards her own covered up replacements. There was no shame behind it, at least on the surface. Takai held his own self-hatred towards his own, but that was something for a more private conversation.
"Noted. Better you than a bureaucrat." He still wasn't too sure of who she was and how she fit into the system against the Jinrai, and so he steered his trust aside momentarily. With a lowered voice, he then propped the question about that which had plunged him into the temporary spotlight. "What was the fallout like here after the incident?"
"I wouldn't ask me." Caitlyn shook her head. "I'm not Japanese, so the rest of the Bs and As do their damndest to keep me out of the loop. Frustrating as all hell."
"I guess that was to be expected." He felt his eyes drift off around the room a bit more. At the least, she seemed honest about her answer and with the flow of information he'd expected anyone except the highest authorities to be floundered by the internal crisis. Takai had squandered a lot of his hope in the politically chaotic climate he'd found himself at the frontlines of. Bombs, raids and investigations had found the members of the NSF's Central Command on the verge of being stretched thin in Tokyo alone, whilst the Jinrai competitors would've certainly held operating posts beyond the neon metropolis. And with it, there was little information on how the Jinrai fully staffed its leading figures. Many deserters had either come empty handed with information, shown great stubbornness in unveiling any intel or offed themselves at the first sign of capture. He was suddenly taken out of his strategic muse when she spoke again.
"Ah. My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. Caitlyn Ellesworth, formerly of the FBI. Now I'm a squad support manager."
"FBI?" Takai staggered back into the conversation. "I was aware that there had been a select few foreign collaborators but I'd never thought it'd be to this posting." He began to extend his hand, but retracted it when he saw that it was his own cybernetic one. Instead, he swapped out the greeting with his surviving arm. "The pleasure is mine. I'll stop by your office at some point to discuss the means of my schedule and returning work pattern."
"As far as I'm aware it wasn't; I think they dumped me into B. I was higher ranked back in the States." She didn't let any more emotion seep into her face, but when he drew his hand back she shook her head. "Use the replacement. Makes it feel more like you."
"I'll use it when it proves that it won't endanger me in the field." A shallow disdain sprouted from his downpoured lips. He looked to the left, and then to the right, before letting his hand drop at the failure to connect the handshake. He knew that his reluctance would've been a disappointment, if part and parcel to the process of true recovery, but Takai's loathing ferocity towards his unnatural limbs proved only to be an enhancement of his guilty, shame and trauma left from that fateful explosion. Before anything else could be said, he saw a familiar face begin to push through the crowds, drifting toward him as some sort of awkward husk in a sea of busied bodies. He flashed a glance back at Caitlyn and respectfully nodded at his superior by rank, age and external experience. "Excuse me."
With his attention now drawn towards the long-awaited reunification with Kaz, the woman who'd been there when it had happened, he moved relatively slowly as she beelined straight for him. In her eyes there was, for lack of a better term, a strong absence of anything and everything. She walked with prowess and exhumed it with her figure. Even though it had been three months, he still found himself a little surprised at how much raw power she really showcased. And when she sauntered over, he was glad that it was from the perspective of an ally than that of an adversary.
"Hello Takai, glad to see you moving around again." Straight to the point, as ever? The sentiment was more than flattering at least. Surely, her Japanese had improved quite a bit and her accent had faded a little more than last time. The quick extension of her hand, accompanied by the dead-panned stare that she couldn't shake off, left him hanging on returning the gesture. And, just like with Caitlyn, he moved into the shake with his real limb. Flesh met flesh, and he'd finally returned the greeting.
"More or less." He paused. For once, he'd taken notice of his much more...well, reserved personality. He wasn't as quick to the conversation, speaking with a lot more emotion and tone as he'd once had, but kept himself steady and sturdy in presentation. Perhaps it wasn't just his appearance that had gone through a transformation. Maybe it was the haircut... "Glad to see you're still yourself."
"Good to hear. Didn't know if you were coming back or not." The bear in human form cracked her knuckles with a lazy grunt, shifting in place as if agitated by flies. "I tried to get a letter to you but I didn't know if it went through." She smiled grimly at the mention of her unchanged personality. "Yes. Very fortunate."
"I got the letters." He nodded up to her. Really, Takai had taken more of a reality strike in those short few sentences about his social circle. It was minimal - broken, even - outside of the professional relationship he held with Iha and Miho. On the verge of that realisation, he let out a very faint smile, reciprocating her grim one. "I...was very glad to have them. I got a good few covert ones from members of staff. Very formal. Yours was...a nice change of voice."
Stuck in the little realm of thought, he looked back at her. Up close, he felt a little less caught in her imposing glance than from a distance or on approach. It was something to warm up to. She had his back when she could during the explosion and, whilst she couldn't save him from the blast, she'd assisted her rescuers to her ability. And, all things considered, he's suspected that she'd stayed relatively out of dodge from the watchful eyes of her superiors, seeing that her vulnerability in the field at that specific moment could not have boded well for any traitorous intent. At least at in that moment. There wasn't a day going by where a black-mirror glass didn't profile each operator without their consent.
"How've you been keeping?"
Kaz blinked once at the confirmation, mulling over her words as she was wont to do. "That's good then. I assumed that all your mail was just going to be blacked out before it got to you." The cigarette dropped from her mouth and was stomped out beneath her heel, ground away into a useless powder without care for regulation or custom. "Same as usual. I'm either angry or sad or just stuck existing."
"Well..." Looking off to the side, he saw Caitlyn making her way over. She seemed fixed on the much larger woman than she did himself, and he immediately took it to himself to give them the space to talk. The last thing he needed to do upon arrival was flutter around hopelessly until something would happen. Until then, he was in a tight social spot. "We can keep it that way. Things aren't going to be good here, I feel."
And just as Caitlyn closed in on Kaz, Takai had left the scene with relative silence. He didn't really look that invested emotionally in anything. A strong negligence for his previous energy had fallen flat in the midst of the new world, new month and new body. He took the plunge further into the facility, following throughout the halls and labyrinthian design until he ended up somewhere else. An armoury, he thought? Somewhere where lockers were, but nothing like a changing room. It was relatively empty, save for a few operators of either gender and status. Seemed like a place where people equipped their gear and did self-maintenance on it. There were always rooms he'd never been in. The facility expanded on good occasion. And the three years he'd spent serving the NSF had left him sick at how deep the facility ran. He wasn't sure if anyone else there knew him, or even cared to do so, so he sat down on the bench and took off his jacket, awkwardly taking the shallow corner to pretend to inspect his arm. In reality, he wanted to rip it off. But what good would that do?
