CAUTION: Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

Ch. 8 – Reflex

"Goddamnit!" Doujima's frustrated outburst bounced back and forth between the dilapidated brick walls that surrounded them.

"Calm down. We'll find a way out of here soon enough," Karasuma said coolly, trying to placate her uncharacteristically over-zealous partner. She'd never seen Doujima show so much enthusiasm during a hunt before. Lord, the girl was beginning to act like Sakaki and it was grating on Miho's nerves. Well, at least Doujima wasn't accident-prone like the brunette rookie. If that were the case, Karasuma would have another problem to stack on top of how they were supposed get passed the wall that blocked their progress. Why Doujima had decided to suddenly show such devotion to the hunt was beyond Miho's comprehension at the moment. Better not to question it as long as Doujima remained interested... Nevertheless, they certainly needed to get to the rendezvous-point and standing in the darkening alley, staring dumbly at the walls, wasn't going to get them there any sooner. "Let's go back the way we came and try to figure out where we got turned around," she suggested, flipping open the handheld's screen to read the GPS yet again.

"We've been going in circles for ten minutes, Karasuma. I'm beginning to think you're reading that thing upside-down," Doujima quipped, casting a side-long glance at Karasuma, whose eyes were fixed decidedly on the GPS map. Ignoring her partner's sarcasm, Miho made her way down the alleyway from which they'd originally come. Doujima rolled her eyes as she hastened after the brown-haired Scryer.

They walked on in silence for five more minutes, turning a series of corners and picking their way around the massive amounts of garbage that whirled around in the stagnate breeze. Miho tapped her headset, trying to get better reception. Only the endless buzz of static came through the earpiece. She cursed inwardly at the damnable contraptions in her ear and palm and at the situation they'd found themselves in. Why had Amon bothered to include her and Doujima in this operation? They were both injured, both still reeling from the disappearance and betrayal of Sakaki. What was Amon thinking? He knew better than to rush into a hunt without proper planning. This was—for lack of a better definition—a suicide mission. She tapped the headset again to shut it off and glanced at the GPS tracker with a dismal sigh.

Doujima asked the very question Karasuma was praying wouldn't be asked. "We're back where we started, aren't we?"

Miho's grey-blue eyes stared blankly at the small screen of the handheld. The faint, pulsing blue light reflected in her eyes. "It would seem we are." The GPS map still showed an entryway where they stood, an entryway that would lead them to the target point a scant fifty meters away from their current position.

"Maybe we should just try climbing this wall?" Holstering her gun, Doujima trailed the well-manicured fingers of her uninjured arm over the brittle brick wall before her, testing it for grip. If they could drag a garbage can over—and there were plenty of those around—maybe they could scale the wall and finally meet up with Amon and Robin. Wrinkling her nose at the rancid stench, Doujima dumped the contents of a large, sturdy plastic trash can onto the concrete and pulled it the short distance over to the wall, turning it bottom-up. She tested its strength, pressing her weight against it with her good arm. Seems sturdy enough, she thought. "Karasuma, you go first."

The older hunter eyed her partner suspiciously. She was not as quick to trust a garbage can to support her weight as Doujima was, no matter how sturdy it seemed. But what other options did they have? Somewhat reluctantly, Miho put away the communicator and stepped towards the trash bin. I bet I'm just the picture of professionalism right now, she thought dryly as she crawled on top of the over-turned container and, wobbling dangerously, stood to grasp the brick wall for dear life. Relief surged beneath her weary and beleaguered features. "The other side doesn't look like a dead end," she reported to Doujima.

"Good. Go on and climb over. I'll be right behind you." Doujima adjusted the bandage on her injured arm as she watched Karasuma's figure disappear over the horizon of the brick wall and heard the woman's high-heels scrape against the concrete ground on the other side. "Here goes nothing…" she whispered into the darkness, the lengthening shadows of the alley her only witnesses.

Why did he keep finding himself in these situations? Here he was, narrowed eyes glaring—yet again—down the cold, black barrel of his pistol at yet another one of his teammates. First Kate…then Robin…now Sakaki. Amon trained the handgun steadily on the shadowy figure of the man who blocked their exit.

Sakaki took a few lazy strides forward, hands stuffed nonchalantly in his coat pockets. The strange grin on his face only widened as he advanced and the veil of shadows dissipated from his face.

Amon's frown deepened, his steely grey eyes hardening with resolve to protect himself and Robin, whatever the cost. His hands gripped his weapon tighter, his leather gloves squeaking as he clenched the handle. "Stay back, Sakaki."

The rookie's mop of brown hair flopped in the breeze. Robin watched in horror as he continued forward despite Amon's warning. Through the dimness, she noticed something strange about Sakaki's eyes; they looked fogged-over, unseeing. His movements were sluggish, almost forced. He was not moving of his own power, it seemed.

Realization washed over her at what was happening. Disturbed, her emerald eyes darted back to Amon. "Amon, no!" she warned.

Amon squeezed the trigger slowly. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but he held no reservations. Sakaki had betrayed them and Amon would be damned if he was going to let the boy go.

"No!" Robin's voice was louder this time, more commanding.

He cringed minutely as he pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening as its echo battered his eardrums. The bullet spiraled towards Sakaki, but melted in mid-air before it was even halfway to its target. Amon jerked his lethal gaze away from Haruto and leveled it on Robin. What the hell does she think she's doing? Before he could fling a blistering reprimand in her direction, a blunt force knocked him to the ground and he skidded several feet, his face scraping on the concrete. A metal dumpster clanged to the ground beside him.

Robin's eyes widened and narrowed in the span of a second. A stream of flame flashed through the air, blocking a second trash can that was flying towards Amon. Robin could see the glazed over eyes, the dilated pupils. It was the look of someone drugged. Certainly this was not Sakaki's doing, though she was beginning to wonder if this telekinesis was his Craft.

Amon clambered to his feet, wiping blood from his cheek and shaking off the dull ache in his side. He kept a wary eye on Haruto. A rotten wooden crate hurled across the courtyard, only to be rendered to ashes by Robin's blaze. Why had the girl protected Sakaki? Why wouldn't she attack him when she had the chance? Couldn't she see that he was crazed with his new powers? Couldn't she see that he meant to kill them? The questions tumbled in his mind so rapidly that he scarcely had time to contemplate one before another presented itself.

Spurts of fire continued to deflect the objects that Sakaki aimed at them. Beads of sweat dappled the young man's face; it was evident to Robin that he would not be able to fight them much longer. And that was exactly what she was hoping for. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Amon aiming his pistol again. "No, Amon. Don't shoot him," she commanded softly, raising a gloved hand to stay him.

Even as she spoke the words, Sakaki collapsed in a heap on the ground. His face was ashen and his breathing labored as he lay immobile on the dirty concrete. Robin stepped cautiously toward him and kneeled down at his side, watching his eyelids flutter and the clouded expression in his eyes disappear. Whoever had possessed Sakaki had lost their hold over him.

Amon lowered the gun stiffly and looked on as Robin removed one of her heavy black gloves, revealing a petite, ivory hand. Her slender fingers trailed over Sakaki's forehead, brushing aside the locks of brown hair that clung there. The boy's face looked content, serene; perhaps the first time Amon had ever seen it so. The raven-haired hunter continued observing in mild fascination Robin's uncanny ability to comfort the boy with a single touch.

A low, musical laugh resonated off of the brick tenement buildings. Robin and Amon glanced up from Sakaki's face in search of its source. From a rooftop a thickly-accented voice called out to them. They caught sight of the cloaked figure and stared up at him.

Amon quietly noted Robin's gasp as the moonlight revealed the witch's face.

"My poor puppet. How sad." The mocking, baritone laugh persisted through the heavy, putrid air. "Oh, well…we shall have to do this again soon, my friends. Until we meet again," the man said, his tone amused, playful. He bowed deeply and then melded into the indigo night sky. Robin and Amon found themselves powerless to stop him.

Amon scowled, wishing that he was in hot-pursuit of the witch rather than standing there helplessly while Robin wiped away the sweat from Sakaki's brow. Sighing, feeling impotent and frustrated by the fact that he had not foreseen such a conclusion, he asked, "Who was he?"

"Baldassare." The name fell heavily from her lips.

"One of Juliano's men?"

"Yes." Emerald eyes remained fixed on Sakaki's sallow face as a slim hand checked his temperature, then slid to his throat to count his pulse.

Footsteps pounded on the cement. Karasuma and Doujima emerged from the alleyway, guns drawn and questions flooding their eyes.

He lay, grumbling and recuperating, on the small couch in the STN-J break-lounge. A nearby clock ticked off the seconds, the coffee-pot percolated on the counter; the noises only further irritated Sakaki as he counted the ceiling tiles in boredom. Out of commission again… He didn't know how long these injuries would put him out for and wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to get so banged up. Hell, he didn't remember much of what had transpired in the last few days, just the vague but lingering memories of confusion and pain. But in contrast to his teammates, he wasn't even that concerned with what had happened to him. The fact that the others had left him to be baby-sat by Kosaka and Michael was more troublesome at the moment.

Aggravation got the better of him and he limped angrily to the office where Michael sat typing away at his keyboard, earphones blaring and feet tapping. "Michael," he shouted. Michael's eyes stayed glued to the flickering computer screen. "Hey, would you turn those things down?"

The headphones remained firmly in place, though the clacking of the keys halted. "You don't have to yell. I can hear you just fine." Michael's jade eyes held Sakaki's momentarily as the hacker's glasses migrated slowly down the bridge of his nose. He lifted a hand to push them back into place, signaling the end of the conversation.

Sakaki slumped into a chair, his face sullen. He loathed sitting around like this, waiting in the wings while the others got to have all the exhilaration, all the surges of adrenaline the hunt brought him. Over the three years he'd been in the STN-J, nothing had brought him more pleasure than the feel of blood thundering in his veins as he chased a witch to his or her demise. Even now, now that he knew what became of those witches he'd hunted down…had seen with his own eyes the bubbling vats with their hideous contents…even now, he was hungry, greedy for the thrill of the hunt; it was just too addictive, too alluring. He could see the others were struggling to deal with their guilty consciences, trying as best they could to do their duty without using orbo. He'd chosen not to think too deeply on the subject; better to throw himself headfirst into his work than to sit back and contemplate the morality of it.

But being cooped up in the office left him nothing to do but think.

Robin nursed the cup of espresso, watching her reflection waver and warp in the liquid. Karasuma, Doujima, and Amon waited quietly for her answer. Harry's was empty, for the most part. Only a few tipsy customers slumped over the bar, their speech slurred as they argued their sobriety to Master while he dutifully phoned cabs for each of them.

The fire-witch's emerald eyes did not lift from the coffee. "Baldassare… He is the hunter who possessed Sakaki, one of Juliano's elite guard."

"And, evidently, our new Single-Eye." Amon added. "A very powerful one."

"He can use witches powers against their will…like Methuselah." She fell abruptly silent again.

"Can he jam radio frequencies as well?" Miho asked. She glared at the handheld that lay on the table next to her glass of ice water.

Doujima gave the older woman a sly look. "Oh, don't go blaming witches just because you don't know how to read the damned thing." She stopped for a moment, ice cubes clinking as she stirred her drink. "Wait a second. I thought single-eye witches had some sort of tell-tale scent. Remember the smell of fragrant olives from the first Single-Eye?"

Amon nodded, flicking his gaze from Doujima back to Robin. "I didn't smell anything but the garbage. It was probably disguised by that." Tentatively, he willed his mind to carefully probe hers. He certainly didn't want to alert her and experience the force of that mental-slap again. He shuffled lightly through the maze of her thoughts, but withdrew when he sensed her startle and clamp her mind shut. Those familiar green eyes caught Amon's slate-grey ones staring intently into hers. His eyes skipped back down to the tabletop to over-analyze the patterns of shadow that fell there.

Robin spoke calmly, measuring her words. "Baldassare had a partner back in Italy. Another of Juliano's bodyguards. If Juliano has issued the order to hunt, then he would send his finest agents, and Baldassare would not come here alone." Why Juliano would choose to hunt her now…she did not know. The last time she saw him, he had appeared to have decided against hunting her, was even almost remorseful for having ordered it. Something told her that he would not go back on those feelings, but there was no other explanation for Baldassare's actions.