Clean Fall Chapter 12, an el tigre fanfic

It's not that you won't see death coming… you will, and the realization will simply have come too late.

Chapter 12, Drop Off

Bella Vista landing strip, one week later, 8:33 PM

They were mulling about in search of something, the seven men in black. With their technology and expertise, they scanned the earth on which they stood, searching for something, anything, any sign of their quarry. It was rapidly becoming a fruitless endeavor; considering that they were more than a week behind the two Riveras, what hope did Agent Geoffrey and his squad have to really succeed? Just the same, that they'd made it this far was a testament to… good detective work. It was also a testament to the old pilot's resistance to torture; tough old man, that one. Geoffrey sat on a rock, pondering thoughts deeper than he was paid to ponder. He thought about whether or not the pay was good enough to be doing this. Sure, he got to see the world…

"Agent Geoffrey."

"Hm?"

Geoffrey hastily got up from his sitting rock and walked to the side of the man who disturbed his peace. He held a machine in his hands, from which came an eerie iridescent light. It revealed, pounded into the ground, a worn but still present tire track that left in a far different direction than any of the others.

"What's in that direction?"

"If you go far enough? The Mariscal Caceres province," the agent replied, "not really anything special."

"If it's not special, why aren't we finding more tracks going that way? I have to alert M. He'll want to know this is finally working out."

M's Command Center, 7:36 PM

The phone rang away. Again and again it rang, filling an empty room with its quiet, digital tone. M, it seems, was gone; his computers were off, his chair was abandoned, and the lights were all on. … Well that's not at all like him. He stood in the hall, leaning against a wall and just thinking. He'd turned on the lights in his room because something was bothering him, cutting him to the core. Something about the week before; the coup d'est grace against Sartana. It went swimmingly, except for one thing he did not at all plan.

"Zoe… where are you?"

M was a controller; if the universe wasn't marching to his beat, then he felt a deep drive to fix that. And right now, though Django of the Dead was allied to him, the absence of his left hand, which came at a time when his right hand, Nikolai, was also gone, left M very, very upset. And then came that incessant ringing. Enough! Storming into his office, he took the phone angrily, pressed it against his ear, and smoothly, calmly answered the call.

"This is M."

"Sir. Agent Geoffrey, reporting from Peru, Bella Vista province. We believe we've found something."

"Oh," M replied with a cold smile, "that is wonderful news. What have you found?"

"It's not much, sir," Geoffrey answered back, a little unsure of himself now that he was actually talking to his boss, "but we've found tracks that may lead to the next province over… what was it? … Mariscal Caceres? Yes, Mariscal Caceres."

"… Interesting. Inform the Lima division of Maximum Enterprises that you require its resources to find a… corporate spy," he said, booting up his computers, "I'll see what I can do from here to expedite the process."

"Yes sir."

The click that ended the phone call came from both ends; Maxim, though still slightly lost in his thoughts, plotted out his exact move. He clicked on his keyboard, brining up a black screen. On it was the blinking image of a telephone receiver. When it finally disappeared, it was replaced with the image of Dr. Koreyama, and this sight brought a smile to M's face. Koreyama, a very bright and intuitive man, also smiled.

"I take it you've found him."

"I'll send the data we have so far. Contact the Lima division of Max. Enterprises when you've landed in Peru."

"Yes, M. I believe you'll be even more pleased with the results of this trial than the Tokyo trial."

"Though I find that hard to believe, doctor," M replied, smiling and leaning back in his chair, "I look forward to said results just the same."

Waldo's Estate, Mariscal Caceres, Friday, 3:10 PM

"Go-o-o-al!"

Tired, huffing, sweating, Manny Rivera pushed himself up from the grass once again. Soccer was still damn hard for him when he wasn't cheating. It didn't help that he hasn't played in years, or that Waldo's grandchildren were all better than him, or that it was still so hot. The children didn't seem to notice the extra four degrees… it was really quite peculiar. Compounding on his exhaustion, Manny was a little frustrated with what a show off Hosea, Waldo's favorite grandson, had turned out to be. 5' 7", 13 years old, a build that no girl could resist, piercing green eyes that made absolutely no sense… the kid was designed to stand out. What's more, he was very good at soccer, and very aware of that. Hosea approached Manny slowly, smiling with his hands on his waist.

"Come on Manny, a couple more goals? Then we'll call it a day."

"Yeah," Manny replied, "a couple more goals."

Manny climbed to his feet with a tired sigh and retrieved the ball from the small practice net it was nestled in. Giving it a gentle toss to Hosea, he grimaced slightly as the show-off set about strutting his stuff again. Spiking the ball upward with his knee, Hosea began to walk slowly back to the center of the field, varying between bouncing the ball from his knee to his foot to his head, all while smoothly walking across the grass. Hosea, it seemed, was just one of those people with a perfect center of gravity. Halting his showboating, the young athlete dropped the ball in the poorly drawn white-chalk circle designating the field's heart, and smirked as he took his side of the field. Manny took up position in front of him. All the while, Waldo's other grandchildren, a collection of six girls, watched and giggled as their cousin, their brother, or whatever their relationship to Hosea constituted, made short work of the superhuman out-of-towner once again. Each time Hosea scored, it seemed to take less and less time; after this one, Manny was dog tired and getting a little angry. His temper was close to flaring, but his thoughts were interrupted by little Nina, the youngest granddaughter. In all truth, Manny had taken a quick liking to Nina, the six year old who reminded him so much of Frida and always made him feel a little better about leaving his home behind.

"Don't worry, Manny," she said with a sweet voice, "Hosea's just proving he's as good as you. After all, he doesn't have super powers." She leaned to left to look around Manny at her older brother. "In fact, the only thing super about him is his ability to fail math."

Hosea pouted and turned up his face in a mock frown. He couldn't get it to last, and instead let out a string of laughs that even lightened Manny's heart. Gaining a last wind, he stood again and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Alright, Hosea, one more goal."

Hosea smiled and clapped his hands together, jogging towards Manny's goal to retrieve the ball. He stopped short and lost the smile when he couldn't see the black and white in the goal. It was the damnedest thing, but the ball was some thirty feet to the left of the goal, and a little further behind it; it was as if the ball never made it in, which was strange, because everyone saw it go in. Manny thought nothing of it.

"I got it."

Wiping more sweat out his eyes and walking slowly to conserve what remained of his energy, Manny came within ten steps of the ball when it began to move. Not slowly, as if propelled by a breeze, but not lightning quick either. Again, it was the damnedest thing; it continued its rough movement towards a drop off, the off limits section of Waldo's estate, and in reality its border. Manny, seeking to get the ball before it went over, broke into a run and jumped for it. He missed when the ball's movement spiked, sending it over the edge with the force of a kick. Pushing himself off the grass, he gazed down the slope, watching the ball bounce ever closer to a string of buildings near the base of slope. Manny stood as Nina and Hosea ran up behind him.

"Hey guys, what's that down there?"

"The ghosts…" Nina replied with a shiver.

"Ghosts?"

"She means ghost town," Hosea said with a tone of arrogant knowledge, "grandpa says it's haunted so the little kids'll stay away. It's a stupid way of saying that it's dangerous, or whatever."

Manny was silent at first, wondering still what made the ball move the way it did; the sight of the soccer ball bouncing in place like a basketball got a faint gasp out of him, and much more out of Nina.

"Ghosts! Ghosts!"

Nina, still one to fear unexplained happenings, broke away towards the rest of the grandchildren. Hosea and Manny continued to watch the ball, though only Manny had any plan. With a brilliant green flash, he leaped over the side of the drop off with more athleticism than Hosea could ever hope to achieve. After five or six seconds of falling, he landed with a smooth roll, though he skidded a few feet across the gravelly soil upon landing. He turned his head up to look for the ball, though it was no longer where it had been just ten seconds before. Instead, it was rolling steadily toward the heart of the town. Manny's heart hitched a bit when he swore that he saw a shimmer chasing the ball; a shimmer shaped roughly like a man. But Rivera's aren't afraid of ghosts. Hell, until recently, they would fight skeletons on a regular basis, and surely giant monsters are infinitely more dangerous than ghosts. He gave chase, seeking to both get to the bottom of this mysterious phenomenon and to retrieve the ball. Manny entered the town, and an impressed sigh escaped his lips. It was a sense of discovery that had filled him just now… even though everyone in the area was aware of the dry skeleton of a town, he himself had just wandered into it, and it was a marvelous sensation. Looking up at the waning wooden architecture, he didn't really take notice of the soccer ball at first, which was wedged tightly in a hole in a collapsed porch. Once he broke free of his wonder, Manny's eyes found the black and white and started prying it from the hole. It was in so tight… how did that happen? Certainly not the wind, but… could it? There was a sudden noise behind him; it was a metallic whir, like hydraulics working, or gears smoothly operating together. When he turned to see what caused the sound, all he saw were seven wicker baskets. Well, they looked like wicker; enough so that even upon inspection within three feet, Manny as certain they were indeed baskets. He thus wrote said baskets off as the source of the noise, though he couldn't remember seeing them when he walked into the town. He turned to leave, walking past the seven objects of disinterest with the soccer ball, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the sound of metal again, or rather, seven times in quick succession. The sudden dread he felt… palpable wasn't even strong enough in terms of definition. Acting on that sensation of fear, Manny turned hastily around, tossing the ball aside and drawing his claws. He was met with fourteen piercing red eyes.

"… What the hell are you guys…?"

"El Tigre."

"… Uhm… yes?"

"We have come to kill you."

His eyes widened, but not as much out of fear as in predatory reflex. Of course, he wasn't the only with such reflexes; one of the mechanical assassins, fixed with a pair of miniguns for four arms, raised its weapons and took aim with lightning speed and murderous precision. It began firing madly at the quickly evading target. El Tigre, running, leaping, forcing himself to find cover, escaped behind old support beams, walls of structures long far past their prime. Needless to say, these wooden obstacles did little to deter the spray of bullets. He did, however, find a boulder behind which to hide, and he remained there to catch his breath. Amidst the shooting, impossible to hear, was a sound like that of a zip line; had El Tigre been in a position to watch, he'd have seen a long cable being launched from the torso of another of the more or less identical Ultrabots. It landed just short of the boulder, and two second later exploded in a line of crackling, engulfing the boulder in its scorching energy.

The Soccer Field, 3:15 PM, just before the attack

Hosea had walked back to his six cousins and sisters, confident Manny would get the ball back. Nina, it seemed, was bawling her eyes out, whimpering something about ghosts. While the other girls didn't know exactly what to say, Hosea did. Kneeling to her level, he took Nina by the cheeks and gave her a stern look.

"Nina, tell me something. How many ghosts play soccer?"

This, one must realize, is not a question to be taken seriously; it's a mental distraction, not unlike wondering if a falling tree in a desolate forest makes a sound. Nina, in pondering exactly how many ghosts actually knew how to play soccer, slowly began to reclaim her calmness. Her efforts were shattered when the sound of gunfire broke out. Hosea stood quickly to calm her down with more calm words.

"Now now, we all know what grandpa's business is. He's probably just testing out some-."

The explosion that followed shook even Hosea, who turned in the direction of the echoing blast: the drop off. Out of reflex, he immediately started herding the girls back toward the house. Something was happening that grandpa should know about.

From the Author: Hey all. Sorry about the hiatus. And sorry that this chapter is so short after so long a break. But I'm still not totally back in the game; I just don't have it in me for a long chapter. Don't be sad, though – there shall be more. And it shall be neat.

Also, for those of you (who are left, anyway...) who feel that too little development has been given to Manny x Frida... just hold on, dammit! There's still plenty of story left.

Final note. My Hosea, while similar in physical description and personality, is not at all related to the Hosea outlined in The Queen of Aces' famed "The Second Generation Chronicles." That would be silly, seeing as they aren't even in the same generation. What sort of craziness would compel you to suggest that they were related?