/a.n./ Well you see, I've been procrastinating fort the last couple of weeks. I know so many stories that got ruined because of a sequel; and honestly I was a little afraid. A lot of people reviewed and messaged me, asking if there was a sequel; and at first I couldn't reply. But in the end, I realized that I had never intended for "Behind the Wall" to be a completed story; and I don't want to leave it unfinished. So here it is; the sequel. I hope this won't be a disappointment, and I promise I will do my best to make it good. Thank you!
Disclaimer: I will only do this once. I do not own Inuyasha. All rights go to Rumiko Takahashi & Co. and VIZ Media.
Rated (M) for: Violence, language, alcohol use and other implied things.
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Prologue
Mie-Nara Border, Daiko Mountain Range 34 ° 03'04''N - 136° 06'23''S
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"Subject one-oh-nine was found dead by a Subway in Kyoto." the assistant reported, holding up a small screen. The man in front of him glowered.
"And the cause of his death?" he asked.
"Heart attack, that's what the hospital saidanyway," He checked the screen again, then punched in a couple of codes. A picture flashed on the screen. Under it, the caption "Subject 109" was printed in bold letters.
" I think otherwise though…" he added, holding up the screen for the other man to see.
He looked at it for a while, scrutinizing the image. "Zoom into his arm." The assistant did as he was told and worked on the screen for a couple of seconds. The man smiled.
"It seems your assumptions were true," he said, pointing at the screen. The assistant looked, he understood. There, right on his forearm was a light pink scar. The picture had been taken mere hours before his death. It was no surprise that the doctors hadn't realized anything – it looked like an ordinary scar.
The man smirked. "Any other similar incidents?" The assistant shook his head.
"Very well then, keep the surveillance going. If you miss any details, the next thing you'll be missing is your heart."
He waited for him to finish his sentence and say "-beat". Heartbeat. But he didn't. Cold sweat broke across the assistant's forehead. He nodded once, swallowing – then walked out the double doors.
The man sighed and sunk back into his chair, listening as his assistant's footsteps slowly faded away. It was tiresome to train new assistants, but the old one had known far too much. It was never good to know too much. Replacements could be made. And he had planned it all out nicely; and so far – none of his plans had failed.
With a bit of… hmm … persuasion – he had managed to get the Daichii Power Plant to provide the electricity they needed to keep the building running. He had made sure that they would be impossible to track down.
Somewhere in a bank database; there was a fake signature of a fake billionaire who had a fake villa in this mountain range- to explain why there were cables running to this spot. Nobody would be able to trace anything back to him; because he was dead to the rest of the world. He had made absolutely sure that nobody would ever track any incidents back to him ever again. Perhaps the government would be able to, but that didn't matter in the slightest.
He wheeled over to the opposite wall, and flicked a switch. Immediately, a massive screen lit up. A world map was clearly displayed on the screen, and hundreds of red spots marked places all around it. The largest concentration of dots was located around Japan, and Eastern Asia. The rest were scattered all around the globe. This was why they took precautions. It would have been impossible to reach them all, at least manually, if they hadn't planned ahead.
He decided to have a little fun. It had been a boring day after all. He tapped on one of the spots, watching as the screen morphed into a satellite image of a young man, sitting at a table – at, he assumed, a restaurant. A name flashed under the screen, along with the coordinates and the number 348.
He pulled out a microphone from the control panel beneath the screen and held it close to his mouth, smiling.
"Hello Naoki." He said menacingly.
His voice reached him very clearly. He watched as the man on the screen looked around, obviously searching for the source of the voice.
"No need to look around Naoki, I'm right here." He saw him stiffen. His eyes darted around the restaurant, but saw nothing.
"You can stop looking around now. You won't see me." He said, his amusement starting to seep into his tone. The man on the screen began to quiver. He watched as Naoki's hand flew to his head. His eyes darted around nervously, still looking for the source of the voice.
He wouldn't find one of course.
He tapped on the screen again, already bored with his little game. The screen transformed back into the map. That would give dear Naoki enough fright as it was. He chuckled to himself. He would keep an eye on Subject 348, just for the hell of it. The poor man probably thought he was going mad.
He lay back in his chair, pushing a long lock of jet black hair behind his ear. He shut his eyes in satisfaction. It was so easy to scare those idiots. All it took was a little microphone and… well a couple of other things that he had already established years ago.
Had that imbecile thought that it would be so easy to finish him off? Maybe his head really was as thick as it had seemed. Of course he had had to make certain sacrifices – but it was all for the big picture. As he raised his left hand, a piece of metal caught the dim light in the room, and it glinted faintly. He frowned. He still wasn't entirely used to his metal hand; but he supposed that it was better than none at all. A couple more parts of his body had been – renewed; but his hand was the most noticeable.
Ah well, it was all worth it in the end.
He tapped on another red dot on the screen – one that was moving in the direction of Osaka. Another satellite image popped up along with a name, some changing coordinates, and the number 72. The man's grin got wider. His hand reached for the microphone again; but he stopped abruptly. The man on the screen was all alone. It was easy, too easy… And where was the fun it that?
He stared at the screen for a little while, watching as the subject sat in his empty train compartment, staring at a piece of paper. He smirked, and tapped the screen again; closing the image.
Subject 72 would find out what happened to those who ran. Very, very soon.
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