The Time Of Fate

Tactical Response and Enforcement Estate headquarters, Lansing, MI.. .

"Director, please!" A young secretary urged the Enforcement Director to calm his already erratic nerves. Since the news broke, understandably, no one was able to rest for the smallest thing; sleep, food, and even personal hygiene were off the table for some until the threat could be contained, or better yet, neutralized permanently.

A strong emphasis was placed on the word "if."

"I can’t calm down at a time like this, damn it! This is a principle-level situation we are dealing with, and sitting around with our thumbs up our asses would be worse than just giving that terrorizing menace exactly what she wants!'' Director Kerr slammed a gloved fist into the desk, where mountains of paperwork lay before a pile scattered onto the floor. "We need to have some sort of plan, and we need to have it now if we have any hope to avoid this reaching ears that it shouldn’t!"

"I understand, sir, truly I do," the young woman said, her thick British accent coming out the more and more nervous she became at the idea of the director having a possible vessel in his brain burst. Detroit’s police did their best to enforce the law and quell what they thought was a simple demonstration of a petty criminal with too much power. "But the situation is being handled as we speak."

How easily she managed to lie in her boss’s face was beyond her, to begin with.

"That's what she wants us to think; for the past few years—" another fist on the desk skewed around papers, only adding to the young woman's grip on her clipboard."She’s had her followers break into almost each one of our research facilities, not to mention all of the other times that she’s publicly released sensitive documents and audio recordings, and with the number of bugs on the most insignificant staff!" Director Kerr slumped on the table, not even considering why his assistant had initially come into his office to ask him about their annoyance. Taking a page from her life coach’s book, she read off the report she managed. "Make it make sense, Jessica!"

She would try.

“Junko Johnson's full name is Junko Hattori-Sae Johnson; female, 23 years old, of Japanese-African heritage. The family home of 15 years is still standing. It was built by Tsumika Hattori and Dante Johnson, ages 39 and 46, respectively. Mother was born in Asakusa, Japan; father is a lifelong Detroiter with Japanese ancestors on his grandparents' side." Jessica stated, clearing her throat once again to finish the next set of new information before being cut off.

"And what in hell will that do for us?"

A slight smirk came over Jessica’s face at the question she was waiting on. "It won't; but this piece of information from previously blacklisted archives on any forum or government with the highest clearance; the only person who could even hope to get this is at the president's level."

WHOOSH!

"How?" Director Kerr’s speed would have surprised her if it hadn’t scared her silly, seeing the near-crazed look in his eyes tempered only by his semi-professional attitude for the moment. "Better, what? What did we miss that we can use against her?"

Jessica was not as sure that telling him would do more harm than good due to the lack of importance conceptually, but she knew it was always a case of something better than nothing, and in this case, they had nothing.

She announced the news while keeping her eyes level and her voice steady. "She has a brother." A raised eyebrow was as good as a nonverbal command to say more. "21, nearly 22 this year. Same parents and everything, the only difference being that he seems not to share his sister’s lust for power and mayhem. We weren’t even informed of him because he was that unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and his last few years were level 2 blacklisted, meaning only about 3 people knew of him and chose to say nothing.''

Taking the time to quell his breathing to the point where he could hear himself think, Director Kerr referred back to his previous encounters with the tyrant woman, only for her to openly mock the seasoned SWAT retiree. The thought of her having any other family that could potentially be on her side by coercion or of free will would not be tolerated while the iron, in a manner of speaking, was hot. "The brother. Find him." A sigh followed. "Whatever it takes. Once we have him, we could have a chance."

"Sir?" Jessica inquired, nervously combing a hair through her auburn hair, when her boss chuckled, her brow nearly unmoving except for his eyes narrowing at the report Jessica handed him."What are you planning on doing?"

That was on a need-to-know basis. They already risked a potential breach, though certain measures were taken to ensure the highest level of privacy and information limitation possible. "What I must, Jessica. Being given a budget is useless if we fail to actually use what our patriotic and law-abiding citizens pay their taxes for.'' Director Kerr chuckled to himself briefly, understanding much more about the kind of angle she was approaching from. If it had been a snake, it would have long since bitten him, but the recent development of the brother entering the picture may work in their favor.

Knowing that little else would deter her boss from going down a rabbit hole from which he might not be able to return only served to serve her exit the room to go and gather the necessary materials and personnel required to do whatever lay in wait for the future. "I don't get paid enough for this."

Grand Rapids, Spectrum Health Cancer Center. . .

The light came with an almost unrelenting heat; the subtle clicks and clacks of a keyboard were offset by the beeping of the heart monitor. Every day, it never failed to sound off. It engrained itself into memory, being the only "constant" that could be accounted for. Sterilized and cool air gently came across her skin, the goosebumps being another reminder of being alive, as subjective as that could be for some. The only escape from the harsh reality had to be the TV in the corner, displaying the news that continually broadcast the same carefully planned story.

To control the minds of the masses, no doubt.

''And here again, at the top of the hour, we are providing the city with updates on the situation, about which we are still unclear,'' A spokeswoman gave their "honest" opinion, the soulless look in her amber eyes reflecting from her eyes down to her black and red suit. The thought of those who were foolish enough to listen and actually take it at face value made her laugh. ''We urge the good citizens of Detroit to remain calm in this time of unrest; our teams are on the ground, in the air, and even on the sea doing their best to quell the unrest of the citizens affected by the breach of the Dearborn Heights Chemical Factory leak.'' The distant sounds of gunfire, sporadic shouting, and blaring police sirens drowned most of the reporter's words out as the seconds passed. ''We ask that the public cooperates with your local authorities at this time or there may be repercussions, so I would plead with the. . .'' The volume was reduced, and the doctor's voice chimed in as the results came in, noting the same factors.

Results.

Multiple reports, tests, and appointments from specialists from distant countries that no one dared to hear of or question their medical practices came in on a regular basis, poking, prodding, taking samples, and whispering in the dark when a conclusion could not be reached. It. . .sickened her soul; it made her want to smash the nearest blunt object against the person's head who thought it was a good idea to all but demonize her when she had done nothing wrong where she did not force a submission by holding a gun or a knife to one's head.

Being labeled with death more than once was a recipe for disaster; add to that not being allowed to live even once. Her body aches and chills were like having a cooler of ice water dumped on her, and the harsh winds at her back. The staff would look at her with judgment in their eyes as rumors spread throughout the facility.

She was cursed.

She fostered the machinations of a modern-day dictator.

She was an enemy of the state.

And what did they truly know? Nothing. And she only knew the more she spoke, even in defense, the worse it would be.

''And good morning to you, on this fine day.'' The voice of the doctor in charge greeted her with a lack of care, with next to no amount of true professionalism because she was confident that if it weren't for his position and the orders from above to have someone treat her, she would be the nail in the coffin for his career, so the next best thing would be to embrace the opportunity with some baseline of conduct. His aging, slightly portly face fell into a neutral line, the hairs of his long salt and pepper mustache rustling in the air as he exhaled. "Another day, and not much else to report, I am afraid. Perhaps if you answered our questions truthfully, we could-''

SLAM! A fist smashed on the rail, sending a wave of tear-jerking pain through her hand, but she stood firm. A migraine, loss of sleep, and a slew of mental issues only served to make her next set of words all the more impactful, and she did her best to make them see. The extent of her anger only outweighed their need for answers, and by any means needed. The news reports made it clear that, according to their own agenda, anyone associated with Detroit might as well be better off dead by their own hand rather than let the proper authorities acknowledge the wrongdoing and follow the trail of blood. "I have nothing else to tell you about coughing that you already do not know! Day in and day out, the same questions come, and you all expect different COUGH! answers. I am-'' Tsumika's coughing fit was interrupted by the doctor, who had an unamused look on his face as he made his point.

"-the mother of a tyrant, of which most of us are aware, so you should be able to see firsthand the kind of unspeakable, immoral, and unforgivable damage that your daughter has caused in pursuit of whatever higher goal she has convinced herself of." The doctor's words cut deeper than she would have thought possible. Whether it was the bluntness of the statement or its monotony, both seemed to be a blow to her mind.

Tsumika sighed, wondering how far the game of theirs would go and how many more restless nights, poking, and prodding would have to be done before they would just stop and she could be free.

And free would she be to mourn.

The door to her room opened, and the sliding of the bearings on the door alerted her to her assigned nurse and the tray of breakfast for the morning. Tsumika could easily obtain it, but the staff felt it was in their best interests if she remained in her room unless accompanied, no doubt to quell any potential uproar at her someone laying eyes on her and slandering her with all amounts of slander, betrayal, or physical retaliation to pay any amount of cold blood due to Junko's crusade.

"Your breakfast, please enjoy!" was her favorite nurse, whose overly cheery and aloof attitude made her question why she never seemed to have an off day or any inkling to treat her with any shred of hatred. Her bright smile and constant pep in her step brought a weak smile to Tsumika's face as the lid opened, revealing the freshly made plate of steak and potato hash with perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs with a side of avocado toast, juice, and yogurt that nearly made her eyes water. "Aww, Ms. Hattori, don't cry! Don't be a downer; you need to eat!'' Kimmy's light-green eyes revealed no malice, only a harmless and eagerly curious nature that could never be replicated. Her short blonde bob certainly fit her image of purity, as the symmetry of her face was a touch different from the beauty mark near her left eye.

''SNIFF! "Thank you, Kimmy," Tsumika said, admiring the young girl and smiling as she noted the few stains on her scrubs. Kimmy's thousand-mile grin nearly threatened to reduce the older woman to a pile of mush each time. She once held that strength, that raw determination to pass on the love and care to whoever needed it the most without asking for anything in return. "You're too pure for this world." Tsumika ignored the glare of the doctor as he finished looking over the instruments hooked up to her, and when it seemed that he was satisfied, he left with a curt, half-hearted nod in her direction before directing Kimmy not to stay too long. The door closed, the dull click acting as a final call for that silent conversation to end.

She needed a few moments to be sure.

"I think Dr. Mathers is gone," Kimmy whispered cheerfully, sitting at the edge of Tsumika's bed as she waited to start eating; it wouldn't be right to try and talk to someone when they were trying to eat, and she wasn't about to be rude to her friend.

''T-hank COUGH! you. I really appreciate it; I only wish I could repay your kindness after all this time,'' Tsumika said, taking a spoonful of the hash into her mouth, slowly savoring the meat's juicy, almost butterlike texture as the subtle taste of pepper tickled her nostrils. The food was a small comfort in a place that she knew would have nothing to do with her, but with all other places rejecting the notion, this facility so far from her home was the one to draw the short end of the stick. If the sickness within her did not kill her first, then the atmosphere would definitely do her in before long.

A few minutes passed by without much else being said. Tsumika was enjoying her food, though it always took longer in the mornings, while Kimmy tidied up her room and waited patiently for her friend to get done so they could have their daily conversation. Kimmy made a point to try and learn something new about her friend each day, no matter how small; that way, no two days could ever be considered the same, and in the type of environment her friend was in, the addition of new stimuli would only help her own process before she could get out of here. Setting her utensils down after finishing off the last of the yogurt, Kimmy looked at Tsumika and spoke with her boundless enthusiasm. "So when do you think you'll be getting out of here?" I know the doctor didn't have much to say today, but I think it's getting better, don't you?

"Not anytime soon, and COUGH! if I did, it would be the same; I just wouldn't have as much time. Tsumika looked down at her hands, the pale yellow color decorating her skin, and felt the weight of her body nearly sagging into itself, the curtain of sleep deprivation slowly worming its way around again as the temperature flared. "I might as well die."

Shaking her head and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder, Kimmy looked into Tsumika's eyes with a warm, comforting determination. She rarely had these moments of doubt, and whenever she did, Kimmy always found it best to reassure her that as long as she never stopped fighting, things would find a way to work themselves out. Only Debbie Downers give up at the start, and it would be that much harder to come back and make a change. ''I know it's hard, but you have a reason to fight; you have things here in this life you have yet to do, and I can see in your eyes that you're tired. But that's when you really have to put on your pants, one leg at a time, and look out at the world and take whatever it throws at you and-''

''-hurl it back, yes. But. . .I'm not sure anything that I do will have any impact to change anyone's mind; I've been written off from society, and the only legitimate reason I'm even allowed to be here is that they believe that I hold information on the situation in Detroit, and the second they find no use for me, I may as well be on the chopping block to be erased from the history books as a bad memory.''

Kimmy knew. Not much is known about the entire incident, but from what Tsumika told her and the reports from the news, someone was obviously bending the truth about the true motives and the cover stories to make people think that things were handled. Even though she was aware that a parent's role has a significant influence on how children think and act, the decision to do certain things ultimately fell on the child. "Why not try and set the record straight? Or try to contact your daughter?

Tsumika laughed, rubbing some of her skin. It was too late for that. She and Junko never agreed on anything for very long. One of the few things that could be agreed upon was the need for change in high places, and how Tsumika always tried. ''I don't think she would want my input on anything. She was the one to have me admitted here and for my "safety," but I knew it was just a convenient excuse to get me out of her hair and as far away as possible so I wouldn't be a thorn in her side.''

''But you're her mom; why shouldn't she listen to you?''

"Freedom, rebellion, and a COUGH! need to be right; the list goes on and on.'' Tsumika sighed frowning and staring at her lap, recalling the simpler times when she raised her family with the purest of intentions and without judgment. The pure, carefree laughter and wonderment on her and her brother's faces were what Tsumika needed to keep going and be the greater motivation for them in their later years and beyond.

Those days seem like almost a millennium ago.

''At this point, I don't think even I could get through to her, at least not on my own. How would I even start that conversation with my daughter? 'I know that you are a terrorist, wanted by every high-ranking official, but I COUGH!" I still want you to know that I love you despite the things you've done.' I. . .would only make things worse,'' Tsumika stared into her handheld mirror, noting the faint crow's line in her face as she tried to make herself smile for the moment, though it didn't last long the longer she thought about her situation. Her hair long began to gray, coming in streaks in odd places, and her hazel eyes nearly watering when Kimmy gave her a gentle hug as she tried her best to hold it in, to tell herself that she did no wrong.

That she did the best that she could and that nobody could rob her of her day in court to set the record straight. Tsuimka's body writhed and shook her Kimmy's grasp, the small whispers of reassurance being the final straw for her tears to flow out, her wild and uncontrolled breathing being the product of years of repressed emotion laid out in one small frame of time. Tsumika's cries drowned out the tv, the heart monitor, and even some of the outside noise going on by her window, the only thing the pair could truly hear was each other's heartbeats and the synced rhythm being a message of strength to transcend talking. ''It's m-my fault. A-Am I. . .a bad m-mother?~''

Kimmy frowned, not really liking the way she heard that statement but kind of understanding what she meant by it. She just figured that since she was her mother, she could do more good than what everyone else was doing. She hadn't known the feeling of raising a child and longed to see how the life of a parent went and what kind of information she could impart, what kind of individual they would be, and what kind of impact they would have on the world at large. ''No. . .you did the best you could, and nobody can take that away from you,'' Kimmy whispered tenderly, rubbing small circles in her friend's back. With all the talk of one child, she nearly forgot the other. One that she was sure got dealt possibly the second worst hand of the game of life. ''What about your son, his name's Jamir, right?'' Tsumika nodded.

''My baby boy, and he probably has it just as worse as me. I-I would talk about him, but. . .-''

''Shhh, shhh.'' Kimmy shook her head, knowing going through 2 emotional roller coasters in one day would be two too many. They would talk about him another day when she would have more strength to do so. But in the same thought, the young nurse wondered how it would be for a parent. To see how she could impart her wisdom and see what kind of member of society she would help create.

And if they would ever be to the magnitude of Junko Hattori-Sae Johnson, the girl who single-handedly started civil unrest seemingly without rhyme or reason.