Your fingers are freezing, the wind and cold temperatures doing nothing to help the way they slightly shake. Numbly, you tap away at your hack console, the peripheral of your eye trained squarely on the entrance to the alley further down the way. So far, no passerby had noticed you hunched in front of the dingy bank terminal, dented and scratched from where amateur thieves had previously tried forcing it open for credits.
You shook your head to yourself. Didn’t they know an alert was sent directly to the cops if the machine was damaged in any way? Pathetic.
The lines of code streamed by, but your fingers tapped a familiar and practiced hack that would easily bypass the terminal’s built-in security. For all it knew, you were the bank coming to collect the stored credits. Just as you preferred it to be. Quick, easy, and without the risk of cops closing in.
You smile, watching as the hack took effect, and the terminal’s console control displayed on your data pad. With another glance at the alley, you reach into your back pocket and take out your credit cube. The digital serial number had been erased, then spoofed with a fake one. No trace of you having been here at all. Child’s play.
You insert your cube into the terminal itself, and like magic, the number of credits it stored began to steadily climb higher and higher. You weren’t sure how much this back-alley terminal really had, but it was better than the little that your own currently contained.
You sensed his presence before you saw him. With a snap of your neck, you turned to gaze down at the alley’s entrance. In your success, you’d forgotten to keep watching from the corner of your eye. Now, a tall and lean man stood there, staring directly at you.
Blonde, built but not overly muscular, and with a strangely long nose. He was handsome, a tiny part of your mind decided to inform you. But the patch on his shirt that indicated he was an MCPD officer–a specialist, even–took priority.
He’d clearly been modified. You could see the metal seams in his exposed arms and neck where cybernetics had been introduced into his body. What those upgrades might be, you didn’t want to stick around and find out.
Just as he shouted at you to stay where you were, you snatched the credit cube from the terminal and took off the other direction. Your escape route had already been pre-planned in the event of something like this happening.
With a turn, you sprint to the left and down the crowded sidewalk, intent on escaping the man who now took chase. He didn’t give up easily, you surmised, hearing him step past passersby in an effort not to lose you in the crowd.
But you knew this area like the back of your hand. Through a few more turns and fades into a sea of people, the sound of running feet behind you eventually disappeared. It wasn’t until you came to the underground byway beneath the main market, hidden from any cameras or cops, that you stopped and took a breath.
You had the forethought to check your credits. The screen displayed a much smaller number than you’d been hoping for, but all in all, the theft was a success. You stashed it away in your pocket again and sat against the concrete wall, pondering where you’d go to eat in celebration of not being caught another day.
And…you wondered if you’d see the handsome cyborg again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The many months after that first encounter, you see much more of who you now knew to be a cyborg assassin for the shadow militaristic-police group known as Cipher Pol. Even more dangerous and hush-hush than the MCPD, they were the people to call when nothing else worked.
Normally, that was someone you’d go to great lengths to avoid. Cipher Pol were the figurative boogeyman that the criminals of Mariejois shook in fear of meeting one day. One rarely encountered them and lived to speak about it. But with this one…you’re curious.
Sometimes, you catch him when he doesn’t know you’re there. You chance upon him as you walk the streets of Mariejois City, following him for awhile to get to know him by his habits. If pressed why you felt the need to, you really wouldn’t have been able to say why. You’d decided that your made-up reason would be ‘to learn the enemy.’
He’s fond of the organic bananas found in only one shop in the market, and was willing to pay a hefty price for them. You supposed a Cipher Pol salary gave him the opportunity to afford such luxuries: real, organic food. You’d never tasted one before, but from the way he ate them with enthusiasm, you guessed they were delicious.
He liked giraffes, weirdly enough. Every time he found something giraffe-shaped or themed along the market stalls, he felt the need to stop and examine it with interest. It was…cute. His expressions were adorable.
Intermixed with these occasions of finding him in his regular day-to-day, he managed to track you down several times while in the midst of your thefts. You’d once been forced to leave expensive cyberware behind in the lab you’d lifted them from, your only profit the small eye implant that had been left in a box on the counter. A well-placed bullet had nearly ended you then and there. You’d been sore for 2 weeks after.
Wrong place and wrong time lead him to nearly slice off your arm when you stole governmental information from the embassy.
You suspected a tip-off when he tracked you down in the waste tunnels of the city, searching for the abandoned treasure of a disgraced and vindictive ex-employee of a large pharmaceutical company. You still don’t know how you escaped that time.
He stopped you from stealing the data pad from a wealthy entrepreneur, who’s pockets you suspected were lined with corrupt political credits. You’d been especially miffed about that, but the news the next day had proclaimed the man had been arrested. You couldn’t be sure how the data had been leaked, but you suspected the cyborg. Huh.
Then, a few weeks after that, he’d interrupted you as you’d been trying to steal Donquixote Doflamingo’s iconic pink sports car. You could have sworn he’d been laughing at you as you sprinted off, your carjacking tech left behind because you hadn’t had time to disconnect it.
These strange back and forth, cat-and-mouse games of hunter and prey…are thrilling. You’re left to wonder if he’s specifically hunting you. If so, you honestly don’t mind the challenge. It’s been forever since you’d gotten a real kick out of a challenging theft, after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’s the closest to arresting and/or killing you when you try hacking into Cipher Pol’s internal database.
Sneaking into the building after hours, using every hack and trick in the book to make it up to the info banks on the 18th floor…It’s by far the most reckless and dangerous theft you’ve ever attempted, but your curiosity and the promise of valuable and incredibly secret information it might contain is just too much to pass up on.
Your data pad is connected to the wall’s terminal, when you hear the distinctive sound of footsteps behind you. The Trojan horse that should have notified you of someone approaching from the hallway hadn’t alerted you, and now you have little time to get out.
You just manage to snatch up your data pad, with what little info it was able to skim, when he appears from the doorway, charged tech gun aimed directly at you. You freeze, for the first time caught completely without a way out planned or accessible to you.
“I’d say it’s a surprise to see you, but honestly, this is exactly something I’d expect from you.” The cyborg said. He sounds…amused. He even chuckles. “What happened to hacking bank terminals and stealing old gen cybernetics from crumbling labs?”
“Got too easy. Too boring.” You say, cocking one hip and crossing your arms. The fact that he wasn’t immediately shooting was a good sign. And…now that you thought about it, this was the first conversation either of you had ever had. It was an opportunity you didn’t want to waste.
“Somehow I don’t quite believe you.” He said, taking a slow step forward. “I really have to wonder what you thought you’d find here. To go to these extreme lengths, you have to be up to something heinous.”
You can’t help but smile, eyeing his face with interest. He had a nice voice. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
“I’ve heard crazier things than a petty thief breaking into Cipher Pol HQ to steal some data.” He said.
“I wanted to learn your name.” You admit, relishing the expression of shock and how it morphed into unabashed amusement when he smiled.
“My name?” His laugh is genuine, and loud and so delightful to listen to. You unconsciously want to make him laugh again. Oh, you had it bad… “That’s all you wanted?”
“That, and maybe a few government secrets, of course…” You say with a shrug. Despite the pleasant banter, your mind is spinning, trying to think up a way out of here. You’re cornered, your back to a window on the 18th floor…hmm.
“If you wanted to know my name, you could have just asked.”
“You haven’t exactly given me any opportunity to. What with trying to arrest me or kill me, and all.”
“Fair point.” His smile widens, and you’re shocked to notice that the barrel of the gun lowers until he’s completely holstered it. “My name is Kaku, special agent of Cipher Pol 0, and you’re one of my highest priority targets to eliminate or apprehend.”
“Oh, so you do know who I am?” You venture, feeling rather honored.
“By reputation.” Kaku replies easily. “The most notorious thief in the city is sure to get on our radar eventually. Especially one with such a wide range of skills and a long list of successful heists.”
You give a little flourish with your hand, acknowledging the point.
“I think it’s only fair I should know your name, if you went to such lengths to discover mine.” The tilt of his head and the gleam in his eyes indicates he’s…having fun.
“Just to make it easier to find me? I don’t think so. If you want to know my name, you’ll have to earn it.”
He chuckles, watching you with interest.
“So, what happens now?” You ask, backing up a few steps as he approaches closer. “You take me into custody, only for me to break out and go right back to my villainous ways?”
“I don’t think so.” He says. “You’ll be locked up in a maximum security prison where you’ll never see the light of day again.”
You stick your hands behind your back, taking on an expression of thought, all the while readying to shoot the glass behind you with the small gun holstered in your waistband at your back. “I don’t think that’s going to work for me.”
“Don’t resist, and I won’t have to shoot you.” He said, hand lowering back down to his holstered weapon.
“I’d like to see you try.” You taunt, suddenly pulling the trigger from behind you back. The shot makes him jump, shattering the glass at your back. You round in place and leap out the window as Kaku shouts for you to stop.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You’re lucky to have survived the fall from the Cipher Pol headquarters. If asked how, you wouldn’t be able to say exactly. Perhaps a bit of luck mixed with an old fashioned miracle. All you knew was that you’d woken up in mounds of garbage in a back alley, and your body ached all over.
The retreat home was slow. You kept a careful eye out for any sign of CP agents or the regular MCPD on your tail. But surprisingly, even when you got a chance to sit down and eat something the next morning, there was no mention of your little heist from CP tower at all in the news. Surely this would have been a more scandalous thing? To your knowledge, it hadn’t ever been successfully done before.
You spend several days after that laying low at home, combing through the little information your data pad was able to download before Kaku had forced you to disconnect from the terminal. Between healing from your wounds after the fall, and reading up on the superficial government secrets you’d gotten your hands on, you tried many searches for Kaku’s name.
It didn’t bring up many results. As a CP agent, his identity was shrouded in as much secrecy as the organization itself. But you were nothing if not persistent and incredibly curious.
That curiosity would lead to your next fated meeting.
A week after the heist, you perked up to the sound of a knock on your door. You froze, listening intently, but unable to hear anything. You rise, hovering your hand over the gun at your waistband as you open the door to see who it was.
You nearly slam it shut when you see Kaku leaning casually against the door frame. His grin is what stops you.
“If you’re trying to lay low, I’d recommend not spamming my name in your search history.” He says, and you mentally face palm at such an amateur mistake. “Though, I admire your dedication to trying to figure out everything about me.”
“Inane curiosity.” You say as an excuse, still in a state of wondering if you needed to fight or flee your home.
Kaku seems to notice your behavior, and waves a hand away. “I’m not here to arrest you. Or kill you, for that matter.”
“…You’re not?”
With a shake of his head, he pulls out a data pad, and with a few taps on the holographic screen, shows you a file. More specifically, yourfile. You see your own picture staring back at you, alongside the whole laundry list of your suspected thefts, basic information the CP agents had been able to dig up about you, etc.
But most notable was the large red letter in the top right corner, labeling you 'DECEASED.’
“Witness accounts say you jumped to your death from the Cipher Pol HQ, your body probably stolen or vandalized for cybernetic parts.” He explained, giving you the data pad when you reached for it. “So, I have no reason to pursue you. It’s up to you whether you want to keep it that way, or return to your criminal ways after that. If so, they’ll probably suspect that you are, in fact, still alive.”
You take another moment to read the file, looking at up him curiously. “…why did you lie?”
He offers a shrug and a grin. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Is that so?”
“Actually, now that I think about it…you’d probably understand someone going to ridiculous lengths just to learn someone’s name, too.”
You’re touched by his admission, and with another look down at the data pad, you open the door fully, a silent invitation for him to enter. “Call me Y/N.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You can’t describe the tension that settles in your home. All these months of the endless chase, the continuous pursuit of the other, and the game of evading capture every time…now that you’d met in a setting devoid of those parameters, you were forced to acknowledge how much Kaku had endeared himself to you.
Your fingers brushed when you offered him a cup of something to drink. And the way his gaze had lingered on yours as you pulled away only added fuel to the slowly building fire. You imagined he could feel it too.
You talked, not of work or your crimes, but of who you were, where you’d come from, and all the things you wish you’d be able to do one day. He filled in all the gaps that your curiosity had wondered about. His love of giraffes, and the delicious taste of bananas. He promised to buy you one later, the next time he went out.
An hour turned into two, conversation enlightening and altogether delightful. You could barely take your eyes off of him. If you were staring, he didn’t seem bothered. Your eyes always seemed to catch each other.
You hadn’t asked why he’d come in the first place. He didn’t explain, either. But you wondered if, the longer you felt the brewing desire between you, this was want he’d wanted all along. Every touch or brush of skin against each other, you felt closer to abandoning conversation entirely and seeing what his lips felt like against yours.
But it was him who caved first. And when he whispered your name in reverence between kisses, you knew you were a goner.
Your body felt alive, humming with the promise of pleasure. Each secret he possessed, peeled away along with his clothes, until both of you were laid bared. Your fingers traveled the seams where man became metal, scars indicative of his more dangerous assignments, and the part of him you were craving more than anything. Your lips peppered skin where you could reach, your hands drawing delicious and toe-curling groans from his lips.
Night came quickly, but you barely registered the time. If it became dark in your apartment, you wouldn’t have guessed, so caught up in the way his hands kept you keening for more and for him and for everything else you could think of.
He kisses you tenderly when you come down from your peaks, and it’s then that you seriously consider abandoning your life of theft and petty crimes, if only to spend another night of two in his embrace, curled up underneath your messy sheet and comforter.
Is Kaku worth trying something new? You didn’t have the answer to that just yet. Perhaps in the morning, after another round or two of giving in to your desires for him. But for now, you’d not think about it and dream pleasant things with him at your side.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
