"Alright, we're here," said Chloe as she, Mireille and Kirika entered the apartment. It was a simple place, with a slightly narrow kitchen in the back corner, a large table occupying the center of the room, three or so tall windows on one side, a bathroom up a short set of steps, and a bed next to it. "You know, this almost looks exactly like my place," Mireille commented, "minus the couch." "Yeah. Altena saw pictures of yours, and liked it. So she got a couple people to make this one nearly identical," she responded. "They even got that huge dent in the wall where you hit your head after you slipped off the stairs," Chloe showed them a picture of Mireille, semi-conscious and with her tongue sticking out. There was also a black stub stuck in the floorboard. It looked like a piece of her high heels. "...Stalkers." "...There's only one bed here," Kirika observed as she was just about to inspect the bathroom. "And it's one of those twin-sized ones." Chloe paused. She had a feeling something was wrong. Altena forgot to put in a bigger bed! "Ahh, craaaap." "So.. how's that going to work out?" Mireille asked as Chloe began to pound her head against the nearest solid item. "I don't know." Inside, Chloe was kind of happy about the unfortunate predicament. She would be able to sleep beside her beloved Kirika! But, that Corsican girl would be there too. She might stay between the two of them, which would ruin Chloe's chance of being "happy" for at least one night. Maybe she could kil— "I can sleep on the floor," Kirika suggested, much to Chloe's and (secretly) Mireille's dismay. "I mean, I've had worse before. This won't be any different." "But, but, it's cold and hard, and it'll hurt your back!" Mireille protested. "It's okay, really. I'm fine with it." "But—" "I said it's fine. And besides, being shot in the arms more than twice hurts a lot more than a simple back problem," the Japanese girl said. Chloe, for some reason, didn't try to stop her. Maybe she hit her head a bit too hard against the wall and scrambled her common-hate-Mireille sense. "Alright, fine. But after tonight, we're switching off." Elsewhere... "Yes, Three Speed. I'll get it done," came the soft, calm voice of a 17-year old girl. She put down her cell phone and sighed a bit. Madlax had just been given another assignment by her boss, this time to kill an unfortunate man named Rousseau. Madlax was a tall-ish blonde with big blue eyes and soft features. Her long hair and choice of clothing gave her a near exact resemblance of a certain Corsican woman who happened to be in Nafrece. Since she had nothing to do today, Madlax decided to scout the war zone area in order to get a general location of Rousseau. She packed binoculars, a map, her gun and extra ammo and set off. "Limelda, I am certain you can fulfill this task swiftly," said her deep-voiced commander. "Yes, sir," Limelda saluted and exited her boss's office. Jean Jacques Rousseau...? Haven't I— "Limelda!" called one of the soldiers she walked by, "I heard you were going to assassinate a writer." "Yeah.." "Why don't you take a break first, huh? I know there have to be some things you want to finish," he suggested. "Yes, I do.. Well, I suppose I can wait a few days," replied the dark-haired woman and continued on her way. Maybe that purple-haired girl will be there in the DMZ again. The soldier smirked and once Limelda was out of sight, pulled out a cell phone. As he did, he fished out dark sunglasses from his pocket. He pressed a speed dial number and waited for an answer. "Altena? Target has been successfully delayed." Back in Nafrece... Mireille yawned and stretched her arms, "Wow. Even though I had to share a bed with a hated rival, that a pretty good sleep." "Speak for yourself," Chloe said with a shaky voice, "I didn't know I could lose so many things in an 8-hour time period..." She rose from beneath the covers, revealing ripped clothing and extremely exposed pale skin underneath. "I don't understand how Kirika doesn't feel any of that.." Mireille shrugged, "I don't do that to her." "I beg to differ. As I recall, the first few nights whenever we stay somewhere for an assignment, I look just like Chloe," Kirika argued as she got up from the floor. "See, that's why I slept down here, where it was safer." "Hmm, smart choice," the youngest of them said. "Well, it's not like you didn't say'no'," Mireille folded her arms, "If anything, I kept hearing 'yes' the whole time." She stuck out her tongue. "Which one of us are you talking to?" Chloe asked. "Both." The other two looked down, embarrassed. "A-anyway! Before this gets any worse, let's go look for our target," Kirika said hurriedly. "Fine then. Although, I could tell you more if you—" "NO!" Chloe and Kirika yelled. After all the excitement subsided and everyone regained their cool demeanors, they decided to check out the mansion next door. Kirika rang the doorbell, and waited with the other two. "Oh, I forgot to say.. You guys have some really good moan—" The door opened and revealed a teenage-looking girl in a maid's outfit. She recoiled, "Oh, Miss Margaret. What are you doing back here already? You just left from school five minutes ago.." The three other women blinked, not understanding. "Who are your friends? Are they cosplayers?" the maid asked, "And why are you out of your school uniform? You don't take it off until I give you a bath at night. And what did you do to your hair? It got bushier." "Huh? I'm not Margaret.." Kirika said, "Who the hell is she? And who are you?" She paused. "Oh, I'm sorry. You just looked eerily familiar to my mistress. My name is Eleanor." "I'm Kirika." "Mireille." "Chloe." "How may I help you?" Eleanor asked. "We're looking for this man," Chloe pulled out a picture of Rousseau from her cloak. "Do you know anything about him?" "Oh yes! He used to tell stories for Miss Margaret ever since she was young. Then he disappeared after getting in trouble with some people. We've never heard from him since," Eleanor responded. Mireille stepped up, "Do you mind telling us more about him?" "Not at all. Please, come in. I'll get some tea ready," the brown-haired maid let them in and rushed to the kitchen. Kirika called as she left, "Orange Pekoe, please!" After many hours of Q&A with Eleanor, the front door opened and slammed shut. "Eleanor, I'm home!" said a soft voice similar to that of Kirika's. "Me too," a deeper, sexier one called after. "Oh, Miss Margaret! Miss Vanessa! Welcome back," Eleanor greeted them. "We have some guests tonight." "Really, now?" The one named Vanessa said as she walked into the living room. She stopped and did a double take, "M-Margaret?" "Coming," a younger girl stepped in, "You called?" Margaret looked at the visitors and her eyes remained on Kirika. "Who are you?" She asked innocently. The Japanese assassin stood up, and with the same voice replied, "I'm Kirika. ...are you Margaret?" "Yes.." she approached Kirika and stared. In perfect sync, both girls raised a hand and waved it. They made a soft noise, and blinked. The two then bent a leg and spread their arms. After a while they stepped back from each other, amazed. Minutes passed before anyone moved again. Everyone was fixed on the nearly identical teens. Near the fireplace, Chloe had clasped her hands together, drooling from her mouth, and heart-shaped eyes that beat every few seconds. Mireille was doing the same, but was a bit more subtle about it. The sound of a whistle broke the awkward silence. Eleanor excused herself and fetched their nth pot of tea. "Uh, wow," Vanessa said, not believing her eyes. "I know," Chloe responded with a dreamy voice. "Sheer elegance," Mireille muttered, staring at Vanessa. Kirika asked, "Margaret, what do you know about this man?" She pulled out the picture of Jean from Chloe's cloak pocket. The purple-haired girl smirked. "Oh, he told stories to me when I was young." Margaret recalled, "Yes, I have very fondled memories of him." "...you mean 'fond'," her friend corrected. "Both, actually." "What do you need to know about him?" Vanessa questioned, trying to forget the last comment. Mireille broke out into a light sweat. "Oh, nothing. We just want to know where he is. He gets into a lot of trouble with our company," she half lied. "Hmm. I think I have a file on him in my bag. For some reason a little voice in my head told me to look him up," Vanessa said as she reached for her purse. "It says here his name has been legally changed many times. His original name was Tuesday Thursday. Then other mixtures of the days of the week, except Friday Monday. Then there was Johansson Smith, Isaac Newtone, Johann Bacchus, Lewdwig Beatoven and his latest was Jean Jacques Rousseau." "Interesting names.." Mireille commented dryly. The woman continued, "He used to live here in Nafrece before he was chased out by a mob of music-loving, science-obsessing, native-marrying, organized-PDA-owning people. Something about dishonoring such respectable individuals.." "Wait. If he was chased out of the country, where did he go?" Kirika wondered. "He took refuge in a DMZ in Gazth Sonika," she replied. Chloe sighed, "Great. Now we have to go there and find him." "Why, what's the matter? Something happen there?" Mireille asked her. "Yeah, I was frisked by some arrogant, sniper woman asking for my passport and ID." Silence. "Ignoring Chloe's experience, how are we going to get there? We used all our money for the flight here and Mireille's unnecessary manicure/pedicure," Kirika said. Mireille smiled and shrugged. "That's ok. I have connections through my company. We can get to Gazth Sonika in no time!" Said Vanessa. "I want to come along," Margaret suddenly interrupted. "Then I'm going with you, Miss Margaret," Eleanor added. "But, it could be dangerous out there. There's a civil war that's been going on for more than a decade," Vanessa told her. "Something's telling me I have to go. And besides, I'll just stay in the DMZ," the clumsy girl assured them. "I won't be any trouble, I promise." Vanessa looked unsure, but agreed anyway. "Make sure you keep that promise." "I will." "So.. off to Gazth Sonika!" Mireille cheered. Angel: Oh wow. It was fun writing this chapter. I'm quite proud of it, actually. I myself laughed at the necessary times. Which is kind of sad if you think about it. There were so many perspectives to write before they met! It killed me. I feel bad (and have respect) now for the people who wrote movies like Crash. Anyway, the next chapter is their encounter with Madlax:O Look forward to that:D
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