Y.A. Confidential (a short noir ff in 3 acts)

[lolawesome]

Y.A. Confidential (Redux)

Part I

The name's Kenji, Kenji Setou, private investigation is my profession. At least that's what it says on my tax return. Truth is, in my line of work, you lie, cheat, and steal to dig up dirt. The dirtier the dirt, the bigger the pay. Add in the unhealthy habits that comes with the territory (i.e. cancerous nicotine smoke, liver destroying alcohol, the ungodly hours most assignments require) and you get a job that kills early and often.

Though never explicitly told to, you're also paid to to shut your fucking mouth. Especially when the good men and women of the law comes in and asks questions that you full well know the answers to. Because my clientele don't come to me to help find an estranged relative. There's plenty of legitimate avenues for that. They come to me for dirt. They need dirt. I give them dirt. What they do with it (and I full well they intend to do bad things ... horrible things ... things that will make children cry ... and monks and nuns faint ... et cetera et cetera) is between them and God.

I don't directly do the evil deeds, but I certainly enable them. Whiskey usually kills any time remorse tries to rear its ugly head. My first case, a scorned wife paid me a lot of money to uncover her husband's, a prominent local artist and teacher, adulterous affair with his star pupil. I disavow all knowledge when the television and newspapers broke news about the poor teenage girl and her severed arms. She'll never paint again. Whiskey. Then there was a track star with aspirations for the Olympics. Her legs were amputated, and she'll never run again. Her replacement happens to have the same last name was the man who hired me (Miura) and that, I know, wasn't a coincidence. Whiskey.

But then it happened. I was a fool to think it wouldn't. A man with a gambling debt. His house was set ablaze, and he and his wife died in the fire. His daughter, Hanako Ikezawa, was badly scarred. The artist that fooled around with a married man and is now armless and the rich, cocky runner who is now legless - they will be fine. They have parents and/or money. But the burned girl, she has nothing. No mother, no father, no living relatives. I used all of the money gained from finding her father's whereabouts and pulling some strings from the Yamaku Police Department, to help her as much as I can. She has a trust that will be available to her upon her 18th birthday. I send her some money as much as I can every so often ... anonymously of course. Her schooling will be also paid for at a private school that caters to the disabled by me as an anonymous benefactor.

And now I'm doing what the Internal Revenue Service thought I was really doing for years. Private Investigating. Finding estranged relatives and such. Legitimate. It also pays very shitty. I lament that fact over another bottle of whiskey looking out towards the town from the dirty windows through a thick haze of cigarette smoke. The landlord's deaf daughter (she was born that way, not a victim of one of my past life's sins) letter in my mailbox remains ignored. I already know what it says anyways. Rent is late. Again. Helping that girl pretty much wiped out all my finances. I'd like to, but it does very little to satiate my conscience. Whiskey.

I take another look at the town, small but still full of lights and life. Where I am, is just on the outskirts, where the lights do not illuminate, where the proper citizens don't dare tread, it is where dreams go to die. This is the refuge of the beaten and the damned. I was about to sigh when I hear the timid tapping on my door. Three soft but measured knocks. Feminine. Synonymous with trouble.

“Come on in, the door's unlock,” I responded.

The door slowly creaks open, and I did a double take on what appears. Trouble alright, trouble with a capital fucking T. Tall, blonde, pale, white, flawless foreign skin with a nice rack, and long, sexy legs that my groin wants to instantly get to know better, and a figure with curves on all the right places. I gulped. This is bad.

She taps a walking cane in front of her as she approaches and feels around for the chair. She's blind.

“Sorry for not having an appointment, but I have a problem that's rather urgent. My name is Satou. Lilly Satou,” she says as her perfume wafts to me. After seeing the goddess before me and now the intoxicating aroma, it all does funny things to my brain and my senses are dulled. I must have just spent an awkward, uncomfortable few minutes not responding before she jerks me back to reality.

“Mister … ?”

“Ah, yes. Satou. Good. Name's Setou. You can call me Kenji,” I say as I fish out a pack of smokes from my pocket. It's the only thing I can do to keep my hands from trembling.

"What can I help you with today, Miss Satou?" I offered a smoke to her but she politely declined.

"I would like you to find an old friend I've lost contact with, Mr ... Kenji," her soft, well bred speech completely out of place here in a decrepit office of a decrepit building of a decrepit part of town.

I audibly sighed and she perked her petite chin upward. "Miss Satou ... there are plenty of P.I.s in town who can do just that. In fact, every single one of them can do it better and faster and more efficient than me. Why are you here?"

"I ... I ... I heard you can help."

I'm never doing this shit again. Not after what happened to the innocent girl that is now an orphan because of it. I don't care if I lose everything and have to beg for money on the street.

"Miss Satou, let's cut the bullshit,as I said, I'm probably the worst in town for the job. I don't know what you heard I can help you with, but please leave."

I turned away and puff on my cigarette. I don't hear her getting up and leaving and sure enough she was still there when I turned back to face her. I take another puff.

"Mister Setou," she begins as I begin to turn away from her again before remembering the futility of it on account of her sight, "I'll pay you hundred thousand dollars. Here is half, and the other half when you find my friend."

The cigarette drops out of my mouth. She pulls out a letter with a name on it. Did a courteous farewell bow and begin to leave. As the tap tap tappings of her cane grow ever distant out of my office, I looked at the thick stack of bills.

"Miss Satou, I have to ask," and she stopped before reaching the doorway

"If I find your 'friend' and some unfortunate things happens to him or her ... I'm going to the police."

She turns to face towards the direction of my voice, as best as she can, anyways.

"Mister Setou ... I sincerely only want to find my friend. Nothing more, nothing less."

I study her for a little bit, I'm not particularly good at it, but maybe she's telling the truth.

"But the amount of money you offered,' I finished the smoke and discard it into the ashtray, "that is above and beyond my ... or any private investigator's fee."

"Like I said, Mr Setou," she started to answer until I cut her off.

"Call me Kenji," and I lit up another cig. If I don't get lung cancer, it would be considered a miracle.

She took in stride and continued," Kenji, like I said, I don't have much time, that's why I was hoping you can find my friend as soon as possible."

Taking my silence as the conclusion of our conversation, she did a courteous bow and turn to leave again.

What should I do? I closed my eyes and picture the image of the young girl with her full life ahead of her if not for me. But this stack of bills ... money doesn't buy happiness, but it can surely solve a lot of headaches. Like rent.

I sigh.

"Please forgive me, lil Hanako Ikezawa."

I just have a feeling deep in my gut I'm surely going to regret this.

TO BE CONTINUED

[griffon8]

*baleated*

[TheMaskedWriter]

What...what happened? I liked the original.

[MystiKnight]

[nowcompletelyunrelevant] what is this i dont even

(LOL ITS A MEME DONT FLAME ME.) [/nowcompletelyunrelevant]

[Gilrond]

*this post no longer relevant*

[Hoitash]

On the other hand, something like this is entirely within Kenji's character.

If you do want to pursue the Noir route, maybe get a cheap copy of LA Noire and play it for a while?

[TheMaskedWriter]

On the other hand, something like this is entirely within Kenji's character.

If you do want to pursue the Noir route, maybe get a cheap copy of LA Noire and play it for a while?

I have that game. I don't care what anyone says, I loved it.
If lolawesome doesn't do it, I will.

[lolawesome]

Part 2

A few days after meeting one Lilly Satou, I was beginning to understand why she hired me. All the legitimate channels for locating her friend were dead ends. This isn't a job for legitimate P.I.s, this is job for one which has connections to the seedy underbelly of this God forsaken town. Two possibilities cross my mind. One, this friend doesn't exist and she's just fucking with me. Two, this friend doesn't want to be found. I hope it's the latter. Because finding those that don't want to be found is sort of my specialty.

The wind is howling, the season is beginning to change. Good thing I have my trusty scarf. I drive around for clues and to clear my mind, scarf trailing behind like a flying serpent. You'd think a guy driving a lime green convertible would draw attention, but you'll be wrong. This slum wouldn't bat an eye if I were to beat someone to death with my bare hands in broad daylight. I desperately need to at least find a clue and Madame Sae's place would be a good start as any. That and I sorta kinda wanna see her. Erm, not Sae … I want to see one of her girls.

I pull up to the front of Sae's building and park under the flashing neon name. It's a building that's nearly identical to the numerous crack houses the populate the area if not for the light works and the big, muscly bouncer guarding the door. I light up a smoke and enter, the bouncer let's me in without me breaking a stride.

“Long time, Mr. Kenji,” he says as I pass. I never remember his name though … I want to say it's … Allen? Inside, the entire place is bathed in red light. Not for ambiance, of course, it's for you to not mistake this place for anything else. Not that it's really necessary. There's only this kind of club in this part of town.

“Welcome to Club Fetish, which girl would you like today?” a cute girl I've never seen before asks.

“Are you new here?” I ask the receptionist as suave as possible.

“No,” was her dry reply. Maybe she's a lesbian.

“Are you a lesbian?” Hey, might as well be sure.

“None of your business, do you have a preference for any particular girl?” Her tone is one of annoyance. I think she looks even cuter mad.

“Are you one of them?” I answer in suave mode again to see if she can get any cuter.

“Stop messing with my Suzu,” a familiar voice interrupts us.

“Oh, Sae, how are you?”

“Long time, Kenji, the usual?”

“Yes, please.”

“Suzu, call Misha.”

“Yes, Madam,” and Suzu leaves to fetch my girl while casting an angry glare in my direction. I was right, she is even cuter still. I give her a wink and she reciprocated with the rolling of her eyes.

I go into and wait in my usual room on the couch. If not for the pressing matter at hand, I suppose I would be reminiscing about all my fond memories here. Finishing my cigarette and putting it in the ashtray, Misha came in. She looks as good as ever.

“KENJI~! IT'S BEEN TOO LONG~! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH~! I WAS BEGINNING TO THINK YOU'VE FORGOT ALL ABOUT YOUR MISHA~!”

She shoves her face into mine and kisses me so hard it hurts. She begins to straddle me and pushes my face into her bosoms. Oh how I miss her embrace. She begins to start unbuttoning my peacoat, but I stop her and slowly press her away.

“What's wrong, Kenji?”

“I'm so sorry, Misha, but I'm here on business.”

She gives me hurt puppy eyes, but I trudge onward. I tell her about the friend Lilly Satou is looking for. Misha thought about it for awhile and tells me about one girl who started here at Fetish a few weeks ago. She was different, Misha could tell. A foreign air about her. Misha helped dye her blonde hair black every few days. But just my luck, she left a few days ago when the Yakuza came looking for her.

Just great, dealing with mobsters. I fucking hate mobsters. I sigh and thank Misha, and she gives me a soft kiss. She squeezes me in another hug and put her head onto my shoulder.

“Promise me you'll be careful, and come back.”

“I'll try, Misha.”

At least I have some sort of direction now. The Yakuza. Fuck. I'll need help, and I head over to Yamuka Police Headquarters for one Detective Nakai.

At YPD, the fat fuck is stuffing his face with the most disgusting fried, cheese cover, lard soaked … whatever it is. The plaque on his desk, with the inscription Detective H. Nakai, has all sort of food stains that the grotesque fatass neglected to clean.

“So … what can I help you with today, Ikezawa's anonymous benefactor?” the slob spraying food particles in my direction in between slurping his fingers.

“You're going to die of a heart attack one day, Nakai.”

He laughs and mention food is how he's coping with his wife leaving him and his son.

It took a surprising amount of willpower to fight the urge to scream that his wife Kaoru left him because he's the fattest, grossest motherfucker on the planet.

“Well, if you keep eating like that, you'll be dead before your son Hisao will even get to high school, Hayao.”

I locked eyes with him. He's the first to flinch.

“I've lost my appetite,” he replies and throws his plate of cardiac arrest in the trash. “So what do you want, ruiner of delicious food?”

“You're the lead detective on the mobs in Yamaku. There's a person one of them is looking for. I need you to help me find that person before they do.”

“Wow, with such specific information like that, it'll be a piece of cake,” he says, anger still tinged in his voice.

I put a stack of bills on his desk.

“Okay, I'll see what I can find out, Kenji. Meet me tomorrow night at the Shanghai.”

And with that, I hope I'm closer to finishing this case.

[lolawesome]

Part 3

I, Kenji, open the door and was nearly blinded by the light. Something compelled me to go forward, however, and I obliged.

Something's wrong ... I'm Hisao? In mental asylum? What is this?

The End.

[lolawesome]

*sigh* I've stumbled upon writer's block on my other fanfic and decides to give this noir thing another chance

[TheMaskedWriter]

Glad to hear, I was hoping you would write at your own pace with no pressure as to the amount of content you produce.

Looking forward to seeing what you come up with in your own time.

[lolawesome]

Glad to hear, I was hoping you would write at your own pace with no pressure as to the amount of content you produce.

Looking forward to seeing what you come up with in your own time.

or maybe I'm setting you up for an even bigger troll end

[TheMaskedWriter]

Glad to hear, I was hoping you would write at your own pace with no pressure as to the amount of content you produce.

Looking forward to seeing what you come up with in your own time.

or maybe I'm setting you up for an even bigger troll end

...glorious bastard.

[Gilrond]

Yay!

[lolawesome]

for Hoitash