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The Editor stood over the unconscious body of the latest agent sent after him. With a disapproving hum, he plucked the stolen flash drive from the person’s loose grip and pocketed it. He drummed his fingers along his bat’s handle as he examined the body. Killing the third agent in a row sent after him would most likely just make things more annoying. The thought of Nexus 6 sending not one, but two nuisances made him shudder. So he decided to be merciful and let the stranger live.
“Any word on your usual pest?” one of his goons whose name he didn’t bother to remember asked. He’d only brought two with him, since the past handful of agents were all people easily dealt with.
A lightbulb went off. “I’m keeping this one alive so I can interrogate out some answers. It’s been boring without a challenge, you know.” Why else would he feel disappointment prickle whenever he saw a spy that wasn’t his usual? They had a dynamic! What was an antagonist without a worthy- well, Polyblank wasn’t exactly a morally good protagonist to mirror him, but still! Who else had ever stuck against him for so long while also matching him at every step? Nobody!
“Maybe he got moved somewhere else,” the goon suggested. He nudged the unconscious agent between them with his foot. He had an odd look on his face, as did his partner. They were used to Polyblank as well, no doubt. “Since he could never finish you off, could he? So maybe the guys up top wanted to find someone new to see if that’d work.”
“Did I ask for your input?” he snapped. The man held his tongue. A smart move, as he would’ve lost it if he’d uttered another word like that. Polyblank didn’t give up like that, and Nexus 6 was just as stubborn. “Make sure the hostage doesn’t make a break for it.”
Wordlessly, he nodded. He was more tolerable like that.
Grabbing the agent by the collar, he dragged him toward a wall. Up this high atop Ikayaki’s stacked buildings, he could use the edge of the rooftop to his advantage. A threat, in case he needed to get his point across.
“Wake up.” Sure, he rarely got a response just by speaking loudly, but it was always worth a shot. He raised a hand and slapped the agent hard across the face. Substantially less fun than knocking him out with a well-aimed bat to the skull, but it got the job done and woke him right up.
“Wh-what—”
“Let’s get this over with quickly. Tell me where agent Polyblank is and I might be merciful enough to let you live.”
“A-agent- who? The- the one who’s normally here. Right? That’s the guy you want?” he spoke hurriedly, as if time was more important than accuracy for him.
“I will not repeat myself,” he threatened, a certain terseness lacing his voice. He pressed the head of his bat on the agent’s hand. Maybe breaking it would make him talk faster. “Usually he’s the thorn in my side. The latest batch you people have thrown at me are quite boring, I’d say. Where is he?”
“I-I don’t- they don’t tell me these things, you know? None- none of us speak to each other!” he stammered, pulling his hand free. It twitched too close to his hip and the Editor slammed the end of his bat down onto his stomach, earning a sharp cry.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”
He obliged and kept his hands on the ground by his sides. For good measure, the Editor struck his left hand (he appeared to be left-handed during their brief scuffle) with enough force to hear a crack, earning a stifled shout.
“A warning. It is in your best interest to start talking.”
“Okay, okay! Look, all I know is that he’s not available for these sorts of things, hasn’t been for over a month. H-he could be dead!” he added, as if that was any better. But he certainly gave a shaky smile while saying it. Did he think he wanted Polyblank dead? “Or maybe he’s doing something else! I don’t know, okay?! Just-”
The Editor lifted his bat, tapping the end in his other hand for a moment as he mulled over his options. “You’ve said more than enough.”
Crack.
A body slumped over onto the cold concrete ground. Maybe dead, maybe concussed, maybe not. No longer of any interest to him, however he ended up.
“Let’s go.”
One month turned into two. Two turned into three. And still no sign of Polyblank.
Disappointing. He’d liked him, in a way a family grew fond of a raccoon often seen rummaging through their trash. Or at least, that was how his guests felt about him, and that was the excuse he ran with, as well. A foreign fondness warmed him whenever he showed up, and that feeling twisted and burned the more time went by without seeing him. He’d begun to suspect he wasn’t even in his sector anymore, after all his search parties returned empty-handed. And he’d sent many search parties.
He wasn’t dead. Frankly, he didn’t think Polyblank could die.
After letting that third replacement agent go, Nexus 6 stopped sending more people after him, in a rare move of wisdom. Which left the Editor alone, and admittedly, being able to work and manage without distraction helped take his mind off of the worst of his curiosities. But the wonder still remained, omnipresent in the back of his mind, like a sleeping animal he could just hope to not wake.
With a heavy sigh, he brought his cigarette back to his lips and breathed in. The city lights were lovely at night. The chill just barely overpowered his suit jacket, and made the painted concrete half-walls he propped his elbows on rather cold, but he tolerated it. If anything, the breeze helped him think with striking clarity. So what if he missed Polyblank and his stupid antics and interruptions? So what if he was worried? So what if every search team sent to hunt him down came back empty-handed? He’d move on, and in due time, another notable agent would break into his penthouse or show up on his radar for stealing a kidney.
Nothing else changed; Polyblank up and vanished, and things continued as they always had, although with less interruptions. The Syndicate lived on, his goons still did his dirty work, and that blimp circled in slow, wide arcs overhead. Who even owned that thing?
Tearing his gaze away from the city skylines, he looked up at the blimp. Had it always drifted so close? A bit too close for his liking, in all honesty. But what was he supposed to do, walk up to the door and ask them nicely to keep their distance?
The blimp was definitely getting closer. He snuffed out his cigar, shoved it into his pocket to toss out later, and walked toward it. Its door, or maybe it was a window, slid open. The lights from its blaring neon advertisements glared off his glasses when he craned his neck up to look at it.
With all the grace of a cat being dropped into a filled sink, Polyblank threw himself out of the blimp and hit the ground hard.
“Polyblank!” Relief washed over him and, without thinking, he stepped toward him with a genuine smile, like seeing an old friend after some time apart. It certainly felt like that. Polyblank jumped up lightning fast, unfazed by the fall, and waved, and with just as much lack of thought, he raised a hand and returned it. “You’re okay. Where have you been? I-”
And then he remembered he had to hate him. They wanted each other dead. Right. As quickly as the joy came upon him, he locked it in a box and kicked it into the far corners of his mind. He forced his hand down to his side. The smile dropped and it took every ounce of his will to remain unflinching under Polyblank’s stare. Telambulants “stared” when looking right at something, so by all logic it should’ve been impossible to stare in the way humans did, but he sure felt like the man stared into his very soul.
Well, he’d gone and made things weird now, hadn’t he? But maybe he could gaslight him into believing he hadn’t seen and heard all that. In the most bored tone he could muster, he said, “Polyblank. You’re back.”
From the moment Polyblank had stood, he’d had his hands raised, as if he’d planned something to say before the Editor just had to go and open his mouth. But now he just stood there, and the Editor let him take a moment to find a response to his idiocy. What on earth had possessed him to erase his filter like that? He had to amend it, to act like he hadn’t said any of that. Polyblank lowered his hands for a moment before raising them once more and giving him a response. His first words after months of not seeing him, of worrying. (Because he’d grown bored without a proper fight, of course.)
‘I missed you, too.’
The Editor’s breath stopped in his throat and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything stupid. He bought time by rolling his eyes, giving him a precious second to think of a sane response.
“I hardly noticed you were gone, actually. But I suppose even you would miss someone as wonderful as I am,” he lied as smoothly as he always did. Another one of his many talents included not showing an ounce of nervousness, even if his heart was pounding out of his chest. Unfortunately, that trick worked best against people he didn’t know for years. Would Polyblank fall for it? “I already miss the peace and quiet. Would you be so courteous as to throw yourself off the building to restore that?”
‘No, I don’t feel like it.’ Polyblank rocked from heel to toe, like he often did when full of an energy that ended with one thing or another in a state of disrepair. He waved the blimp off without looking behind him. Slowly, its skeleton groaning with effort, it peeled back out into its usual orbit. He’d investigate that later. Now, he couldn’t take his attention away from the agent. He knew, he could feel it. ‘What have you been up to?’
“It’s been pleasantly productive without you robbing us blind.” He plastered on his business smile. A flat, falsely happy thing he knew Polyblank would see right through. That technically wasn’t a lie, since he’d actually gotten a respectable amount of things done without Polyblank being Polyblank in his vicinity. Half-driven by stress, but work done nonetheless.
He couldn’t help but look him over as subtly as possible, looking for any new injuries or scars or changes in his demeanor. He looked perfectly fine and uninjured and acted just as alright, and much to his displeasure, that instantly eased the months-growing worry in his heart. He’d even seemed to have shaken off his initial startle from the Editor’s… poor choice of words. “Your turn. Where have you been these past few months?”
Polyblank lit up. He stood up straighter and his screen itself brightened, just slightly. The sight was wonderful; the Editor hadn’t realized how long it’d been since he saw him get visibly excited like that. He recalled the last time was over spotting him standing with arms spread in a park, letting the birds land on him. Literally months ago. ‘Cyberia. To—’ he stopped, going rigid as he realized what he was about to tell. He made a quick dismissive motion and looked elsewhere, at the skyline. ‘It was for a mission. Top-secret. You shouldn’t know.’
How many stories did he have to tell about the things he’d done and the places he explored? It wasn’t the first time the question crossed his mind. He’d be more than happy to listen— No. That train of thought needed to crash and burn. “I guess I’ll have to do the digging myself, then. Well, you’re back. Not happy to see you again, so let’s get this over with: Why are you here? What did Nexus 6 send you after this time?”
He looked back at him. ‘Oh, I came here on my own volition. The Director doesn’t know I’m here.’
He masked his surprise, just like he masked everything else he felt about the situation. Even if he was fairly sure Polyblank saw right through him. “Oh? So nobody would know where you were if something bad were to happen?”
‘I know you wouldn’t even try.’
He reached for his gun, only to realize he didn’t have it with him. Of course he didn’t! He was going outside to smoke and be melodramatic, why would he bring a weapon with him? Realizing he was fairly defenseless, he rethought his strategy and took a large step back.
‘I won’t hurt you. Not paid to.’
“I admire your moral compass,” he deadpanned.
But that did ease that brief rise of worry. Why did he trust him to keep his word? Because he’d kept it in the past. If they ever accidentally ran into each other, they never caused a fuss. For all the disgusting shenanigans he pulled to take whatever he needed, he kept his word.
Polyblank laughed. It was a short and clipped thing, and a just as rare sound to hear. His shoulders shook when he laughed. Polyblank didn’t fake-laugh, or at least he’d never felt it to be a lie, so he knew it was almost certainly genuine amusement. Again, any plans of how to deal with him the Editor had begun to form went through the window, as his only thought was about how much he missed that lovely sound. But he ignored it to the best of his ability. “So, what, you’re here to let me know you’re alive? Alright then. Now I know you’re alive. You can go now, or wait here and be good while I get something to threaten you properly with.”
He drew far too close and leaned against the wall. Why, he was getting quite comfortable, wasn’t he? ‘What’s the rush? We have all the time in the world to catch up! Like all the things you did I can get to breaking and undoing.’ Again, the heel-bounce thing. The menace. ‘I wouldn’t mind telling you about my trip.’
It was obviously bait. For what, though, he couldn’t quite guess. “There’s a catch, I’m assuming?”
‘The catch is: you have to keep it to yourself.’
He rolled his eyes. “Really? If I disagree, you know I’ll pry and find out whatever three-month-long stunt you pulled in Cyberia eventually. And I’ll use that information however I please. What’s the point of having you tell me?”
‘You tell me.’ He propped his head up in his hands and watched.
“I don’t know, you’d be here longer?” Then he thought a bit more about that. The idea of letting Polyblank stick around for a few minutes longer didn’t revolt him. Or induce any negative emotion at all. He pressed his lips into a thin line and contemplated it. “Since when did you start toying with mind games, Polyblank?”
‘Since when did you start liking me enough to miss me?’ He drummed a hand on the cold cement for a moment before continuing. ‘A couple years after our first encounter, I didn’t see you for half the year and you didn’t bat an eye when I came back.’
“Don’t remind me of better times,” he said dryly. But he remembered, alright. Their first handful of years were filled with sporadic, random reminders of the other’s existence. It was a slow build up to it becoming a thing, a regular part of their lives. Or was it just a routine for the Editor and was finding comfort in that rhythm weird? That was probably weird. “And I do not like you.”
‘Then why haven’t you done anything to get rid of me?’
He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “I’m unarmed and I know you won’t fight back until I start something. It seems we’re at a standstill.”
He hummed in acknowledgement and nodded. ‘So is that a no on my offer?’
He sighed heavily and considered turning him down. He had thought about what it’d be like to listen to Polyblank talk about his missions. He bounced around the whole of Japanada like it was nothing and pestered people besides the Editor. Was it such a crime to want to hear about it? “You know what? Sure. Tell me.”
‘What?’
“You have my word: I won’t tell a soul about whatever you did.” He placed a hand over his heart and managed a smile. What was he doing? He was letting go of leverage, of something he could surely tangle into a high ground over Polyblank. The Syndicate had branches in the Old World, although not nearly the hold it held over the New World. Information might help it tighten its hold in the Soviet Union.
Or he could have Polyblank around a little while longer.
He sensed the man’s apprehension. “When have I ever gone back on my word? If you find any loopholes in my statement, I’ll be happy to amend it.”
‘Do you swear not to use it in any way?’
“You have my word. I will not use the following information in any way. Do you want me to sign a contract?” he asked, admittedly a little impressed with, for once, how careful he was. He was also impressed with himself for being so alright with just… listening to him, no strings attached. He decided to ignore that emotion to deal with it at a later date.
‘Just making sure.’ And with that, he sat cross-legged on the ground. With a sigh, the Editor did hesitate to do the same. It’d be quite the long story, apparently. Not that he minded. If anything, the thought of having him around for a while was quite nice. He ignored that emotion, too. It was completely normal to want to catch up with your enemy after months of radio silence. It was normal to look forward to, even! Completely normal. ‘Where to start…' A pause, before he snapped his fingers. 'So, a few months ago, my boss said...'
He had all night to be a good audience. And if any of his goons came to see why he was on the roof for so long, well, he could just shoo them away.