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For the Emperor!

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Part Three: Infiltration


The location “up north” was a couple of hours away, which gave me plenty of time to think while my GPS guided me to what was apparently a small town in the middle of nowhere. I needed a plan, a way to find Kenji, and most of all, some logic behind Kenji thinking he was walking into a trap. Why he was walking into the trap was obvious, at least; to kick ass and take names. As to why he thought he might be going into a trap, I eventually remembered the first job the two of us did that got us involved with the Secret Societies in the first place. When a client’s father had been kidnapped near a bar that one of Kenji’s informants worked at, we had suspected a connection. When none materialized, I chalked it up to a red herring and too many crime novels. Guess I was wrong about that.

That meant Kenji was heading towards a trap designed specifically for him, just as I feared. They may have originally wanted him because of his writing; now they’d want him for revenge, and to stop any future meddling in their affairs. They’d probably want the same of me, too, so it was for the best I was going to them, rather then the other way around. Still, if this turned out to be a trap for both of us, we were seriously screwed.

As for a plan, well, shoot anything that wasn’t Kenji seemed a pretty good one. It had worked so far, at least. Following a trail of bodies would lead me to Kenji, so with that last problem dealt with, I arrived at the address Kenji left for me with something resembling confidence. The newest stronghold for the Illuminati was a small office complex at the edge of a small town, built of gray brick and stone, with small square windows spaced out on both floors. Before leaving the car I double checked that I had everything I might need, and tied some spare cloth around my face, since I didn’t have a gas mask. I could still have turned back, but that was no longer an option. Kenji needed me, and I planned to help him before it was too late.

With both my hands near each pistol, I slowly stepped toward the building. As I crept closer, I noticed the brown front door was open. I crept up against the door and pulled out my Tesla and my Colt, peering inside as I did so. The inside was dark- the lights were out, and between that and the night sky around me, a distinctive sense of foreboding began to crawl in my balls. Shaking my head, both pistols in front of me, I stepped through the threshold and into the darkened building.

No one popped up to greet me, but as I entered the building, I saw a flicker of light as the starlight outside reflected against a round camera built into the ceiling. I was standing in a lobby, with a simple white reception counter to my left. A bunch of red cushioned chairs were organized in two rows to my right, with two tables covered in old magazines on either end of the rows of chairs. A few potted plants in the corners completed the scene. In front of me was a short hallway that after a few dozen meters led to several doors marked as being a stairway, an elevator, and a janitor’s closet, respectively. A side hall past the counter had offices and the restrooms, it looked like. Somewhere down the side hall was where the security room likely was as well, but that would have to wait until after I found Kenji.

Suspecting someone hiding behind the counter, I kneeled down on the right side of it and slowly holstered my Tesla. I carefully readied and tossed a Tesla grenade over the side, and was rewarded with two thuds as it crackled and sparked. As far as announcing my presence went, it was probably one of the more subtle ways.

I wasn’t too surprised when I heard echoing footsteps down the side hall and the stairway in the main hall once the grenade had fizzled out. All the doors I could see were still closed, so at least I had some time to prepare a defense. I tossed a frag grenade down the side hall. It went off the same time the door to the stairs flew open towards me. I tossed a flashbang down that hall and, still crouching by the counter, waited for it to go off, shielding my eyes against the bang of light even as the noise made my stomach churn and my heart gripe. The guards in the stairs weren’t pouring out, which meant they were staying back and waiting; natural selection at work, I guess. I redrew my Tesla and downed a guard from the side hall that had gone a bit too far forward. While I was doing that, one of the guards in the stairs had taken up a position behind the open door.

He was blind firing down the hall with a sub-machine gun, which, while not shooting anywhere close to me, was also pinning me pretty well. I edged over to the end of the counter and peered down the side hall. Two guards were down in the hall, and one of the two the Tesla grenade had stunned was sprawled nearby as well. A fourth guard was using the bodies of his comrades for cover, holding what looked like a hunting rifle of some sort. He fired a quick shot that went passed my head, so I quickly edged back from the suppressive fire. I also took a stray graze to my leg from the submachine gunner, which stung but didn’t do any serious damage. I blind fired a couple shots from my Colt as the guard at the door edged over slightly so he could aim at me better. When he leaned over to fire at me I shot off three shots and managed to down him. The guard in the other hall fired again, probably to keep me pinned, since I heard footsteps behind him. I set the Colt down and tossed a readied Tesla grenade. As it crackled and sparked I grabbed my Colt and bolted for the door, crouching down just in case.

Both the earlier guard and a new one were down in the side hall, and none of the doors in the main hall opened as I walked passed. As I passed the side hall, I saw that the door to one of the rooms was on the floor in pieces, and that smoke was oozing out of it; how I had missed that earlier I attributed to shifted focus. I inhaled deeply and got a brief whiff of melting plastic and metal. At least Kenji had managed to get rid of the cameras and footage before I got here. I did a quick sweep of the side hall, which came up clear, so I moved on to the stairway.

Once I peered into the stairway, I found my first real lead to Kenji’s location. Besides the downed guard by the door, another two guards were sprawled on the stairs, both unceremoniously deprived of intact skulls or knees.

One of these days I would have to ask Kenji how he managed to hit anything when he could barely see the glasses on his own face. I made my way up the stairs, stopping halfway up to check the second floor ledge. The door was open and a guard was down on the ground in the threshold, a shotgun lying a meter or so away from him. Thinking this was as good a time as any, I reached down and pulled out the sawed-off shotgun, which for some reason Kenji had named “Matt 5:9,” according to the English letters and numbers that were scrawled on the side. Right now it was loaded with six slugs. I also had six more slugs, six buckshot, six beanbag shells, and six explosive shells.

I peered down the hall and quickly pulled back into the stairway. The hall was one of those long halls with a bunch of doors across from each other down its length. Simple light fixtures were posted into the ceiling, their dull glow indicating a generator somewhere had been turned on. Everything was painted a light gray, and a fire team of men in gray suits and body armor were waiting in the hall, facing the stairway. Two of them were armed with pistols, while two had semi-auto shotguns. I grabbed a frag grenade, readied it, and leaned into the hall to throw it at them. A flurry of fire shot passed me as I pulled back, none of which hit me. I pulled out a Tesla grenade and tossed it off a few seconds after the frag went off. This time no one returned fire. The next time I peered into the hallway, it was devoid of anyone capable of shooting at me.

It was a good thing no one else was in the hallway, because I had a feeling I’d need my remaining ammo for rescuing Kenji, wherever he was. Since the stairs were at the end of the hall, and the only door near me was a utility room, I didn’t have much choice but to go down the hall, after making sure the utility room was empty, which it was. The next door I passed didn’t open, but as I neared the next door ahead it nearly broke my nose when it swung open. I took a step back and reflexively fired a slug into the door. The door did not appreciate that. A guard bolted from the door holding a machete and I fired at him. I hit him in the torso and he stalled, giving me a chance to fire again at his head. I’d rather not describe what a shotgun slug does to a human head at point blank range, but let’s just say my suit would need a trip to the dry cleaners, and I’d need a trip to a discreet therapist again. The momentum from his sideways charge sent what was left of the guard slamming into the floor. I closed the door, stepped back, and waited for the inevitable flurry of automatic bullet fire ripping through the door, which occurred a few moments later.

When the fire stopped, I waited for the door to slowly open. When it did, I fired the shotgun again, and again for good measure. Both slugs slammed through the weakened door, and a guard in a black suit slumped to the floor, his body armor and chest blown to ribbons. After making sure he was dead, I carefully looked into the room, which had been some sort of meeting room. It was empty, so I moved on. No more doors had any surprises for me, except one near the end of the hall.

As I crept closer to the end of the hall, I noticed one of the doors was open a crack. Voices were emanating from that room, and one of them was Kenji’s. As I got closer I was able to hear what was going on…

“I shoulda known it would take a psychopathic fuck to strong-arm the pathetic remains of the Societies into following him.”

That was Kenji, if it wasn’t blindingly obvious. The respondent I didn’t recognize, though, “It’s not my fault you finished them off before I could come after you! That stunt you pulled with Hakamichi almost ruined me. But I was able to scapegoat enough people to rise above the chaos upon their corpses, much like the New Order will rise upon the remains of you.”

I was close enough now that I could peer into the room. Kenji was standing behind an overturned desk, his pistol held in both hands as it swerved around. On the right side of the room were five men, four of which had silver revolvers pointed at Kenji; hence the erratic movements of Kenji’s pistol. The one in the middle didn’t have a gun out, but his right hand was settled close to a holster with a matching revolver inside. Three of the men had gray suits, including the one in the middle. Another had a rusty red suit, and the fifth dark blue. The one in the middle seemed to be the boss. He had a long scar on his left hand, half of his left ear was missing, and the other half looked to be replaced with a bulky hearing aid of some sort.

“I wasn’t even close to finding out the truth when you grabbed him, you motherfuckin’ twit,” Kenji spat back.

The man in the middle glared and pulled out his own silver revolver. He pointed it near Kenji and fired a shot to his left. Kenji, to his credit, didn’t flinch when the man drew the gun –most likely because he couldn’t see it- nor when the shot flew passed his head –likely because he had been intentionally provoking the man, for whatever reason.

“If I had five men pointing guns with hair triggers at him, I’d be a little more polite. Speaking of which, where are my manners?” the speaker perked his head towards me, “Our final guest has arrived. You can come in now, Mr. Nakai.”

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Next Chapter

You know, I used to make “it’s a trap” references, but then I took an arrow to the knee.

Specifically because someone shot me for making “it’s a trap” references.

So he enters an office building and starts throwing grenades around unprovoked? If Kenji had been mistaken with the adress...

And isn't it nice that the villain can hold a civilized conversation with his prisoner with gunfights and explosions all around him. Why is Hisao surprised that he knows there is another intruder?

Mirage_GSM wrote:So he enters an office building and starts throwing grenades around unprovoked? If Kenji had been mistaken with the adress...

Fair enough, but he did wait until weapons were visible before using lethal violence.

And isn't it nice that the villain can hold a civilized conversation with his prisoner with gunfights and explosions all around him. Why is Hisao surprised that he knows there is another intruder?

I'd say he's more surprised that the villain knew his name. As for the conversation, the room probably has some sound dampening insulation. So they can hear what's going on, just not loud enough to prevent speaking in normal tones.

Although Kenji's first statement was rather loud, perhaps deliberately so...

I'd say he's more surprised that the villain knew his name.

If he knew about Kenji, why shouldn't he know about Hisao as well? The two run a detective agency together - they're not hard to link for anyone with access to the yellow pages.

Mirage_GSM wrote:

I'd say he's more surprised that the villain knew his name.

If he knew about Kenji, why shouldn't he know about Hisao as well? The two run a detective agency together - they're not hard to link for anyone with access to the yellow pages.

Hang on...

Sorry, was reminiscing about the 90's (back when phone books were a thing.)

Okay, that's a good point, one that for some reason I completely forgot. So let's say Hisao forgot for a second, too. Since he learned from the Mutou School of Education (ie, The Doctor meets House) it hopefully won't be too much of a stretch

I think I address this in the next part, but can't remember (if I didn't before, I will now, so thank you for that )

BTW, that shooting free mystery you wanted? It is coming.

I wonder if you can even make a double-action revolver hair trigger.

Damnit Jim, I’m a historian, not a gunsmith!

Though I wouldn’t mind the career change; I enjoy working with my hands.

Previous Chapter

Part Four: Resurgence

As I said earlier, I figured whoever had set the trap for Kenji had most likely set it for me as well. Actually hearing the guy ostensibly in charge say my name, however, jarred me far more than it should have.

I also should have realized my approach hadn’t been very stealthy, so hearing aid or, more likely, augment, or not, I should also have expected the trap setter to be prepared for capturing me as well. I did not expect to have incapacitated everyone who was supposed to try and capture me; a refreshing twist I was more than grateful for. I figured that out when the man in the middle spoke after I failed to enter the room.

“I know you’re out there, Mr. Nakai, there’s no point in denying it. Besides, I have you surrounded by now, I’m sure.”

He was wrong about that, though. Though I was wrong to think at the time that the place was now clear beyond that room, somewhere along the line I and Kenji had wiped out whatever ambush force was supposed to be waiting for me. Maybe the guards in the meeting room had jumped the gun. Either way, I decided to play along, both to buy time and to think of a way to rescue Kenji. Well, sort of play along. I shoved the door open and pointed my Colt at the man’s head.

“Let my friend go if you want to keep your brain matter in your skull,” that had sounded better in my head at the time, honestly. Two of his entourage immediately turned their revolvers on me.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes, “why is it so hard for you two to understand the concept of ‘guy with gun at man’s head’? And why the hell aren’t you surrounded? Security!”

“I think I shot them on my way up here,” I shrugged lightly, “sorry about that.”

The man groaned and closed his eyes. I think I had rattled him, because it was a few seconds before he opened them to glare at me, “surrounded or not, I still have two guns pointed at you, and three at your friend. Now, drop your weapon or I will kill Mr. Setou.”

“Better idea,” I countered, “you and your men drop your weapons or I’ll kill you.”

“If you kill me, my men will kill both of you before I hit the floor,” the man retorted, his expression tense. Whether from fear or anger was hard to say; my guess was anger.

I shrugged, “maybe, but you’ll still be dead, and it sounds like without you, you’re pathetic, revenge-driven excuse for a Secret Society will crumble and dissolve.”

The man snorted, “You think so little of my skills? I set the trap for Mr. Setou years ago, I set him up now, and once both of you are dead, I will be able to rule a new Illuminati, a unified Illuminati, one that-” the rest of his speech was cut off as I removed his brain from his skull with a shot from my pistol. Sorry, but if you’re going to try and take over the world on my watch, you’re not allowed to monologue. Besides, if I hadn’t done it, Kenji would have, and he would’ve missed and gotten us both killed. That’s what I managed to convince myself, at least.

The second I fired, Kenji ducked behind the desk while I darted to the right. Two shots cracked passed me, one of which managed to barely graze my arm. I pulled out my Tesla and blind fired into the room. I heard two thuds and the sound of a revolver and Kenji’s pistol exchanging fire. When I peered into the room only one guard was left, and he was using the body of another for cover while he and Kenji shot at each other. I downed him with a few shots from my Colt.

“You’re clear,” I told Kenji, “Now, what the hell were you thinking, running into a trap like this? And bringing me in after you?”

Kenji stood up and moved over to the downed guards, “I wanted to give you a chance to not come, man. I knew this was the guy after me. He was the one who set up Mr. Hakamichi’s capture, and orchestrated it so we’d be able to find him. He just hadn’t expected us to survive. Somehow he managed to survive the last two and a half years and start rebuilding the Illuminati. I knew this early stage was my best time to stop him.”

I sighed and palmed my forehead; Kenji logic at its best, it seemed, “It will die with him, right? His attempt to rebuild?”

Kenji seemed to be looting the guards as he nodded, “definitely. Though we need to get outta here- I’m pretty sure there’s more security in the basement. You wanna revolver?”

Kenji was holding two of the revolvers, one to use, the other held out for me to grab as he walked over to me. I temporarily holstered my Tesla and took the revolver. I checked the cylinder, which had three shots left. Sticking it in my belt, I looked down the hall towards the stairs as I redrew my Tesla.

“Why would there be security in the basement, and not up here after us?” I asked.

“Contingency plan,” Kenji stated with a grin, “He may have planned to rule the Society remains on his own, but he also wanted to make sure if something happened to him, someone else wouldn’t have to deal with us. That’s my theory, anyway.”

Kenji started walking towards the stairs down the hall. He was holding the revolver in his left hand and the Nambu in his right. As I started following him, I noticed he had several grazes on his left leg and right arm.

“You okay?” I asked as we huddled behind the remains of the meeting room door. No sense getting careless, after all.

“Yeah, nothin’ serious,” Kenji said with a dismissive grin, “though I only have five shots left for the Nambu, and four in the revolver. It’s a .44 Magnum Colt Anaconda with a modified hair trigger, in case you didn’t know. I’m outta grenades, too.”

“I got a few left,” I stated, “How many people can they hold in one basement?”

Not more than a dozen, according to Kenji. Which sounded like a lot, but we had choke points on our side. Before we headed out from the meeting room door I started to hear the faint sound of footsteps echoing in the stairway.

“Gimme Matt,” Kenji said, holstering the pistol and shoving the revolver in his belt on the other side.

I handed him the shotgun and a few extra shells just as the first guards stepped into the hallway. One stepped into the hall and crouched by the wall opposite the stairway, while the other staid in the stairs. They were wearing black body armor and blast shield helmets. Both of them were armed with AK-47’s. I pulled out a Tesla grenade and tossed it as two more men entered the hall. The grenade crackled and jolted as it managed to stun all four guards. When no one stalked out of the stairs to continue the fight, Kenji and I ambled over to the stairway door. I was on the left, and Kenji was on the right. Four more guards were making their way up the stairs in groups of two, using a barricade of the bodies already inside for cover.

“Four more in the stairs,” I declared.

While they started pouring automatic fire out the doorway I readied and threw a frag grenade into the stairs. Someone in the hall shouted and tossed it back, and it exploded in the threshold. I had staid back to avoid the blast, but bits of shrapnel still managed to graze my right arm and lower leg. Kenji grunted as I tried to shake the dizziness from the explosion out of my head. He had a long shallow gash on his left cheek and hand; that grenade had been closer then I thought.

“You cut my face,” Kenji barked, his hand slowly tracing the wound and collecting a film of blood in the process, “you bastards cut my face!”

Kenji blind fired the shotgun with his bad hand, which managed to down a man in the hall who was trying to rush us after the grenade went off. I covered Kenji while he pumped Matt, firing the revolver into the hall. The shot was loud and fierce, and I heard it slam into one of the guard’s helmets. Kenji fired again and groaned.

“You’re gonna sprain your wrist,” I said as I leaned into the hall. We had managed to stop their advance, but there were still two guards left, and they weren’t about to give up.

“I did,” Kenji grunted, turning his scarf into a makeshift sling as he slid Matt over to me. He pulled out the revolver with his right hand and grinned as the automatic fire started poring back at us.

“Our wives are gonna kill us for this one,” I quipped as I blind fired my last revolver shots into the hall. In the process a bullet grazed my hand, but not seriously. Still stung like hell, though. Doesn’t matter how many times you get shot at, still hurts every time.

“On the bright side,” Kenji stated, “chicks do dig scars.”

“We’re not krogans,” I countered as I shoved the revolver into my belt and pulled out my Colt. I emptied the clip into the hall and the incoming fire died. I waited and cautiously peered into the hallway. Nothing moved.

“Top of the stairs are clear,” I said, “not too sure about the bottom at this point.”

“Works for me,” Kenji stated, heaving himself up with a grunt, “Let’s get the fuck outta here before they start using the elevator.”

“You didn’t fry it on the way up?” I asked as we cautiously entered the stairway. It was abandoned except for us and the bodies of the downed guards.

“I was a little busy at the time,” he quipped as the elevator dinged in the background. I started to hustle down the stairs, Kenji behind me, but stopped when I heard something upstairs lumbering.

“No…”

“Fuck,” Kenji grunted, massaging his spleen, “Power Armor.”

I turned around to face Kenji. His expression was grim, and it wasn’t because of his blood stained face and hands.

I sighed and asked, “We have to stop it, don’t we?”

Kenji nodded, the light glinting off his glasses as he did so, “can't risk having one roaming around. Just another day at the office, right?”

I holstered my Colt and grabbed Matt, “we need to update your business plan.”

Kenji grinned and patted me lightly on the shoulder, “we got this, don’t worry.”

I nodded as I replaced the slugs in the shotgun with the explosive shells. Pumping it once to load the first shell, I jerked my head up at the top of the stairs, “let’s go.”

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Next Chapter

Look on the bright side, folks; by offing all the Remnants now, I don’t have to annoy you all with multiple Remnant based stories.

...once both of you are dead, I will be able to rule a new Illuminati,...

Somehow I can understand why being told "drop your weapon and I'll kill you" will engender less compliance than "drop your weapon or I'll kill you...

I sighed and asked, “We have to stop it, don’t we?”

Why?

Mirage_GSM wrote:

...once both of you are dead, I will be able to rule a new Illuminati,...

Somehow I can understand why being told "drop your weapon and I'll kill you" will engender less compliance than "drop your weapon or I'll kill you...

Yeah, that was a hitch in his plan. I get the feeling he wasn't all there at that point.

Or so egotistical he didn't realize how idiotic his plan ended up being. Though that'd make me an even more cliche hack than I thought (fair guess at this point.)

I sighed and asked, “We have to stop it, don’t we?”
Why?

I had a line in there at one point about that, but it got left out this time. I'll fix that, and thanks for reading

Basically the Detective Duo don't want one running around, possibly causing havoc or being sold to the undesirable power of your choice. Or starting a new, more militant Secret Society.

It wouldn't be a particularly strong Society, mind, but even Admiral Daala was a pain in the butt for the New Republic.

Quick, someone consult the Book of Armaments!

Previous Chapter

Part Five: Armor


Considering the last time I had fought someone who was wearing Power Armor I had nearly died, both from said soldier and from a heart flutter, I was less then thrilled at the prospect of repeating the endeavor. Fortunately I was taking better medications at that point, but I still checked my heart rate as Kenji and I stopped at the top of the stairs to look around.

The soldier in Power Armor was lumbering down the hall away from us. His ceramic armor was painted white, but on the left shoulder there were five black silhouettes of stick-figure like renditions of Power Armor. He was holding a claymore sword in his left hand, and in his right a large six-shot grenade launcher. He barely fit in the hall, so if we were careful and quick, I could hopefully finish him off before he could attack us. I said that to Kenji, who nodded, his Nambu ready.

“I have four shots left,” he said, “If you can get close, I can distract him while you shoot.”

I nodded in agreement. Just having me sneak up to him and shooting was putting all our eggs in my carcass. I was very attached to my carcass, but I was the one with two functioning arms, “give me a head start to get closer.”

Kenji nodded, so after making sure the soldier was still plodding away from us, I crept out into the hall and the remains of the door to the one meeting room. The loud thuds of the soldier’s footsteps drowned out my quick pacing. I stopped at the door and backed into the room, peering past the threshold into the hallway. The soldier stopped at the room Kenji had been held in up the hall, then turned around and started moving forward, his sword and launcher ready.

“Enemies of the Illuminati!” the soldier’s voice thundered out, slightly tinny due to the helmet, “prepare to die!”

Apparently arrogance was a requirement for all power armor soldiers of the Secret Societies. Especially since he didn’t have any extra ammunition for his launcher with him.

“Yippie-Kay Yay, Motherfucker!” Kenji shouted –in English, of course-, and fired two shots from up the hall.

The first shot hit the ceiling. The second shot glanced off the soldier’s left arm and ricocheted into the wall next to me. The soldier laughed and started moving toward Kenji, the floor creaking in the process. I waited until he passed by me and fired at his helmet. The shell spat out from Matthew and burst onto the helmet, exploding and scraping against the ceramic like a giant firecracker. I pumped the shotgun and stepped back into the room away from the door.

The soldier groaned and I heard him move around in the hall towards me. The doorway was way too small for him to fit through, so I sidled up to the front left corner as he lobbed a grenade into the middle of the room. I turned away as the grenade exploded under a desk, sending shrapnel, splinters, and a chair leg around the room. A few bits of wood hit my suit, and several pieces of shrapnel scratched at my pants, but I was more worried about my heart. It had survived its fair share of explosions, but every one could be the one that finished me off. My heart thudded loudly once, then went back to its normal erratic beating, as if it was saying oh, this again. Fine, but hurry up or I might reconsider not stopping.

I wondered on more then one occasion if I paid a price of years of life for every explosion I survived. In which case I’d be dead by the next week; fortunately David Sarif owed me a favor. Either way, the soldier wasn’t backing down, but before he fired again I heard the clang of a bullet hit his armor. The soldier laughed again and I heard him turn slightly in the hall as he shifted his weight. I heard the thump of a grenade go off and a few moments later, an explosion somewhere down the hall. Before he could turn towards me I leaned into the hallway and fired at his helmet again. My first shot seemed to have done some damage to his left eye sensor and mask. This shot hit him closer to the neck, and his roar of pain gave me hope I had hit him through the armor. He turned his head to me and swung his sword down in the threshold where I was leaning. I ducked out of the way as the massive weapon slammed into the floor with a clanging smack.

The one time I didn’t have a sword with me would of course be the time I’d need it most. Although dueling someone in power armor probably wouldn’t have worked out too well for me. I fired my third shot at the armored hand holding the giant sword. The soldier roared again and his grip slackened, causing the claymore to fall with a loud clatter onto the floor as he pulled his hand back. Parts of the gauntlet were cracked and broken off, revealing the layer of cloth underneath it.

“You okay in there?” Kenji called to me. The soldier responded by lobbing another grenade towards him. Once the explosion had passed I responded.

“Yeah, I found a hotplate and got a pot of tea going,” I ducked out into the threshold and fired at the helmet again before ducking back into the room.

The soldier’s fist followed me into the threshold, and when he failed to hit me he swiped at the doorway in frustration, cracking the wood and sending bits of plaster into the air. I had two shots left, and after that the only thing I had that could stop him was a couple of frag grenades. About the only way those would do the job was if I held one next to his head, and that was a bit too dramatic for my liking. The fact he had me trapped wasn’t helping, either.

“I don’t suppose you have any C-4 left?” I asked Kenji.

The soldier stuck his grenade launcher into the room and I reflexively shot at it. I must’ve fired at the same time he did, because the launcher exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere as the grenade leaving its tube set off the remaining grenades. A large chunk of metal imbedded itself into my left shoulder near my armor, which itself took nearly a dozen smaller pieces. The explosion forced me back against the wall, and my heart once again thudded loudly. I closed my eyes and placed my right hand over my heart, but it was already thudding less loudly. After a few more seconds, it returned once again to its more normal, erratic beat. I owed Emi Kotobuki a muffin basket for sure.

My ears were ringing, but I still heard the dull clang of a gunshot in the hallway. I also heard what sounded like a mumbled voice, which I dimly recognized as Kenji shouting at me. I slowly shook my head and looked up. The soldier’s arm wasn’t in the threshold anymore, but bits of his hand and arm were. The flesh and ceramic mixed with the chunks of metal in a pool of blood near the doorway. Exhaling slowly one last time, I pumped Matthew and stumbled closer to the doorway. The soldier was down the hall, trying to rip the wall apart with the sword in his remaining hand to get at Kenji. I staggered into the hallway and slowly moved closer. The soldier was screaming incoherently. He was swinging his sword like an axe as he tried to chop through the wall. Kenji, meanwhile, was taunting him from what sounded like the first floor.

Apparently the soldier had suffered some sort of psychotic breakdown from shellshock. Although I could understand the impulse to try and hack Kenji to pieces with a sword. Either way I managed to sneak up on him and place Matthew a few inches from the back of his helmet. I fired with my left hand and the shell exploded into the helmet, cracking the ceramic and sending small sparks back at me. Some burnt into my clothing, others fell harmlessly on the floor. The soldier’s screaming stopped and he collapsed into the wall, taking a good chunk of it down with him as his sword clattered to the floor.

So ended the legacy of the Templar Kiln and its Crusader Power Armor. Hopefully.

Once Kenji had realized a two meter tall ceramic giant was no longer hacking through the wall, he clambered back up to the second floor. He glanced around for a second before finally noticing both the dead soldier in the wall, and me leaning against the doorway. I was catching my breath and shaking the last of the ringing from my ears.

“You okay, man?” Kenji asked. I slowly leaned down to strap Matthew back to my leg, heaved myself back up, and swatted Kenji upside his head, “ow!”

“I nearly died twice from a heart attack today, you moron! Wouldn’t that have been a nice cap on our two man crusade against the Secret Societies?”

Kenji rubbed his head and laughed, “see, man, you’re in as deep as I am. You’re just whining because you got soft.”

“Soft?!” he had a point; I had gotten used to not being shot at so often. Though I still seemed to be shot at more often than was normal or advisable, “okay, maybe I got complacent. Excuse me for thinking our lives would return to normal after that fiasco on the freighter.”

Kenji scoffed, “you’d think somewhere between the werewolf and the Mafiya art thief, you would’ve realized, this is normal for us now.”

I groaned, “I’m gonna need a better life insurance policy, then.”

Kinji grinned and raised an eyebrow, “like you’d have it any other way.”

“Well, I do enjoy not being shot at,” I paused to use my sleeve to pull the shrapnel chunk from my shoulder. Pressing my hand against the wound to staunch the bleeding I added, “but you have a point; life certainly is more interesting these days.”

“That’s the spirit!” Kenji wrapped his unslung arm around me and patted my shoulder, “never a dull moment when you’re with me!”

That was the understatement of the millennium. I probably should’ve been madder at Kenji, but he was right: this was our crusade. I signed up for the long haul, no sense chickening out now. Kenji pulled back and his foot pressed against the claymore. He jumped a little and looked down, his eyes working to focus on the large sword. He slowly crouched down to look closer. Grinning widely, he grabbed the sword’s hilt and tried to lift it. With some effort he managed to lean it against the wall.

“So, what do we do with this thing?” he asked, his good hand still on the sword’s hilt.

I was about to say to hang it in his office with “In Vino Veritas” below it on a wooden placard, but thinking of wine brought me to an idea so ludicrously hilarious, I knew we had to do it.

“I have the perfect idea- we give it to Lilly for her birthday!”

END OF MYSTERY NINE

+++

I regret nothing.

Next time on Hisao and Kenji- Master Detectives!

Just because a job is mundane, doesn’t make it easy. A young woman wants help finding an old flame who left the country without a forwarding address. With the internet no help and a time limit awaiting them, the Detective Duo will face their most difficult and cumbersome obstacle yet- the United States government.

Tune in next time for Mystery Ten: From Sea to Shining Sea

Same thread, same forum!

In the fan fiction community, fan fiction is represented by two not quite equal, but separate groups. The stuff that you wish was canon, and the crap that makes your eyes bleed. This is…

Mystery Ten: From Sea to Shining Sea

Part One: The Client


Spring was in the air. It was April, and the trimester had been in full swing for a couple weeks. I didn’t have to grade any papers or exams yet, but I was looking through some homework assignments. I was doing this at my business partner’s dark wooden desk in his office. The office was well organized, with green metal cabinets and bookshelves along the walls, which were still painted that horrible mustard yellow. I was sitting in one of three brown leather rolling chairs while my partner, Kenji Setou, was doing something on his laptop. He was sitting behind the desk, his thick, round glasses mere centimeters from the screen. His brown suit was ruffled and his black hair an unruly mess. His gold and red scarf was draped around him as he peered into the depths of the screen. One hand held tightly onto his computer mouse, while the other traced a thin line along his left cheek, causing the scar to redden slightly as he did so.

“You can look through as many forums as you want,” I said without looking up from my work, “you still won’t be prepared for being a father.”

“You’re not helping, man,” Kenji grumbled, his eyes wide as he glanced between me and the monitor.

Kenji’s wife, Miya, was about seven months pregnant. Kenji had been bordering on a nervous breakdown since January. Not counting his normal paranoid state, I mean.

I sighed and looked up from my work, “look, you’ll be fine. You’re a great uncle; you’ll be a great father.”

Kenji bolted up from his chair and pointed a finger at me. What I’m sure would have been a very well articulated argument about how he would not be fine, was interrupted by someone knocking on the open door to the office of our private detective agency. I turned to look down the short hallway that led from the door. Standing in the doorway was a young woman with short brown hair and large brown eyes. She was wearing a light blue suit, with pants, and holding a briefcase.

“Welcome to Setou and Nakai Private Investigative Services,” I rattled off as I stood up, “how can we help you?”

She didn’t respond for a moment, instead walking into the office proper and bowing slowly. When her back was straight again I offered her the free chair, which she accepted, slowly sitting down. Her eyes betrayed how nervous she was, but everything else about her was calm and collected.

Finally she spoke, “which is which?”

“I’m Mr. Nakai,” I said as I sat down, scooting my chair back a bit to give her some space, “Mr. Setou is the one in the scarf.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss?” Kenji asked as he, too, sat down.

“Haruhi Sakamoto,” she replied, “sorry for dropping in like this.”

“We don’t take appointments,” Kenji said, “too much paperwork.”

“Yeah, after they kept forcing the door open, we just started an open door policy,” I added, “So how can we help you?”

“Well, your website said you handled missing person’s cases?” she asked.

Kenji and I exchanged a glance, “as long as it’s not part of an active criminal investigation, yes.”

“It’s not,” Miss Sakamoto said, “It’s much more boring, I’m afraid.”

“We like boring,” I said, suppressing a chuckle, “why don’t you start from the beginning?”

Ms. Sakamoto sighed and nodded. She placed the briefcase on the desk and snapped it open. Pulling out a folder and placing it next to the briefcase, she sighed again.

“Take your time,” I stated, “we don’t bite.”

“His wife’s a scratcher, though,” Kenji added.

I shot Kenji an angry glare, which he ignored or couldn’t see. Miss Sakamoto chuckled lightly, so I guess it was worth it to help ease her a bit.

Relaxing her shoulders a bit, she began, “When I was in high school, there was… this boy… in my neighborhood…”

Ah, one of those. The woman was obviously nervous, probably about telling to complete strangers about her past. I decided to let her talk at her own pace. Kenji, who was already looking through the folder’s contents, did not share my sentiment.

“Let me guess,” Kenji cut in, “you developed a crush, he reciprocated, Tanabata, he moved away without a forwarding address.”

Ms. Sakamoto blinked, then nodded, “yes. I wouldn’t normally bother looking for him, but he said he’d email me once he had settled in. The only problem is, it’s been nearly a year, and not only haven’t I heard from him, the only thing I’ve been able to find about him on the internet is an obituary for his father.”

“Nearby meth lab blew up, according to the report,” Kenji said, holding up a printed copy of an American newspaper page, “several months ago. Son wasn’t in the building.”

“Where was that?” I asked.

“Portland, Oregon,” Ms. Sakamoto said, “They had moved to the US- he told me that when I last saw him. No one in his family who’s left knows where he is, and the damn bureaucrats won’t tell me a thing…”

As she trailed off I picked up one of the sheets of paper. It was some facts about the young man, his name- Noboru Takeda- a rough description, and his hobbies. He liked baseball and fiddling with old electronics.

“Well, this is quite the mess of problems,” I declared, “and you’d think he’d have a Facebook account, or talk to his family here, or something.”

“I know, it’s so annoying,” Ms. Sakamoto snapped, “I don’t have the time to do this on my own, anymore- I work as a clerk at a small office, and they need me pulling overtime until they can hire new people. Maybe someone with the right skills can find him for me. Please?”

Kenji grunted and massaged his spleen, “so we got a name, a city, and a lot of nothing. Do you have any other handicaps for us?”

Surprisingly, she nodded, “I can only afford your services for a week. That’ll use up my savings. The overtime will make up for it, and not knowing what happened to him is really getting to me. I thought I’d get over it, but it just keeps gnawing at me, and I know it won’t go away until I know for sure what happened.”

Kenji and I exchanged a glance. A delightfully cliché case that would test both of our more traditional and mundane detective schools, with almost zero chance of getting shot at; worked for me. I nodded once to Kenji, who smiled and looked at Miss Sakamoto’s left ear.

“We’ll do it,” he declared, “having something like that weigh on your mind and heart is never healthy. Just know we’re not miracle workers. There isn’t a whole helluva lot we can do that you can’t. We just have the time and know which buttons to press.”

“We have a couple of forms for you to sign, and then we can get started, okay?” I asked.

Miss Sakamoto nodded as Kenji fished out the paperwork from his desk. She was trying not to look hopeful, but a small smile had crept onto her face. It was an earnest, child-like smile that reminded me of my wife.

I hoped we wouldn’t be the ones to crush her hopes.

+++
Next Chapter

I have a thing for tomboys. I- crap there’s a blond guy at the door. /smokebomb.

Make penetrating the bureaucracy entertaining? Challenge accepted. Where’s my flask…

Previous Chapter

Part Two: Day One


Missing person cases vary, but in the end they have a lot of similarities. A private investigator is more or less doing the work any one off the street could do, they just don’t have the time or the training to do it. What varies is how involved finding the person is. A kid moves away from a neighborhood and his old friend wants to find him, you just follow the paper trail. The internet ahs made those cases pretty rare, but when they do show up, it’s always a good exercise in basic criminology. Kenji liked them for that reason. The lack of knife wielding husbands was a nice bonus, too.

Now, for example, a cold case of a missing kid, that’s a whole other pain in the ass. Police records, cops who treat you like shit, and then when all is said and done, the police get all the credit when they wake up and the case gets picked up again. We get paid more then they do, though, so in the end things balance out. Either way, there’s a reason private investigators are usually portrayed smoking or drinking.

This case was a Perfect Storm of problems. First, we had no clue beyond a city in Oregon. Kenji had called the guy’s grandparents, and they hadn’t heard anything. Apparently they didn’t get along with their late son and his family, and Mr. Takeda hadn’t kept in contact after his family moved. With all avenues exhausted on this side of the ocean, that left the American side. The biggest problem with that was we had to stay up late to call the various government offices when they were actually open. And by we, I meant me, because Kenji was spending his evenings looking after his wife. So that left me calling the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services at an ungodly hour.

“Hello, United States Citizenship and Immigration Services, how may we help you?” a cheery female voice rattled off once I had penetrated the automated computer system. That had taken longer then I would’ve liked.

Kenji and I had discussed it, and while there were legal, bureaucratic ways to find the information we wanted, it would be such a lengthy, form-filled process that our fees would eat up Miss Sakamoto’s budget. So that left us with a theoretically quicker, though more meandering –and slightly less than legal- avenue of bureaucratic penetration.

“Hello, uh… do you have anyone on staff that speaks Japanese?” I asked.

I had a half-decent grasp of English, mostly because my wife’s best friend would humor me with discussing old sci-fi classics. For something like this, though, I needed to be as precise as I could be.

“One moment please,” I was put on hold, and after ten minutes of classical music, the line picked up again.

“Hello, United States Citizenship and Immigration Services, how may we help you?” a male voice asked, in Japanese this time.

“Hi, I was wondering if you had any records of a Noboru Takeda?” I asked.

“Are you a blood relative of this person?” he asked.

I suppressed a sigh, knowing where this might be headed, “…no, but according to the Freedom of Information Act, that doesn’t matter.”

“That act only applies to US citizens,” the clerk countered, “are you a US citizen?”

I faltered slightly, “…no, but-”

The clerk sensed my weakness and struck back quickly, “are you a blood relative or relative through marriage of the person you are enquiring about?”

“No, but-”

“Then I can’t help you,” his tone added “now hang up and do it right,” but I refused to surrender to the red tape.

“I have a waiver here,” I said, shaking a sheet of paper Kenji had managed to print off and get the man’s grandparent’s to sign, “I am authorized by Mr. Takeda’s grandparents to receive any information you may have about him, as related to his status as a former citizen of Japan.”

My blow had struck a chord- now he was on the defensive, “…that only applies if he is still a citizen of Japan. In order for that to be true, he would have to either be a dual citizen, or not be a citizen of the United States, in which case the FoIA does not apply.”

Taking my chance, I struck home with a triumphant grin, “fine, but if he’s still a Japanese citizen, our Law Concerning Access to Information Held by Administrative Organs applies. So whatever federal information you have on him, either way you can tell me.”

“Well played,” the man said. He sounded impressed at my victory, “very well, email me a scanned copy of that form,” he told me the appropriate address, which I quickly copied down, “and you should have a response in six to eight weeks.”

Crap, “is their anyway you can put a rush on it?”

“In order for me to mark it priority, an actual blood relative would have to be making the inquiry. Generally, these things are done through the mail, you see.”

“What if you just ran it through and left me a phone message?” I asked, the rush of victory fading.

“This information cannot be revealed over the phone,” the clerk responded, his tone suggesting I should quit while I was ahead, “you will receive a paper copy of all relevant information in six to eight weeks via certified mail. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

I sighed and shook my head, “no, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

After a quick “you’re welcome” and “have a nice day” he hung up the phone.

I groaned before checking the time on the nearby laptop. Sighing, I placed the form on the nearby scanner and set to work placing it in the email, since they weren’t accepting attachments anymore due to possible hacking/virus/terrorist activity. Once that was done, I finished the last few sips of whiskey and coffee in my mug and prepared to leave the office. Except I had one last thing to do. I picked up my cell phone and made a quick call. I was expecting voicemail, so I was surprised when our client actually answered.

“Good evening, this is Haruhi Sakamoto speaking,” Ms. Sakamoto said once she had answered her phone.

“Hello, this is Hisao Nakai, from Setou and Nakai-”

“You found something already?” she asked, cutting me off.

I shrugged, despite her inability to see the gesture, “possibly. We have a lead we’re following, but I needed to talk to you. The lead requires some information be sent through the mail, and it’ll be a few weeks before it arrives. Now, we won’t need to charge for the time between now and when it arrives, but I do need to ask you for your okay for us to put your case on hold. Doing so would mean we won’t charge you until the information arrives, but, should a case with higher priority then yours pick up in the interim, it may be some time before we can get back to yours. Is that okay?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments, but eventually she responded, “I’ve waited this long… I can wait a few more weeks, I guess.”

I smiled at yet another victory, “alright. Once we have the information, we’ll give you a call to put the case back on. Once we do that, we’ll have to start charging again.”

“I understand. And thank you,” she hung up before I could say anything further. I sighed, pocketed my cell phone, and prepared to lock up the office.

For a case that didn’t involve any guns, it was seriously starting to wear on me.

+++
Next Chapter

At least this case is easier on his heart.

I’m kinda fudging things a bit here for the sake of the story. Feedback on how I do is appreciated as always.

They’re penetrating the bureaucracy!

Previous Chapter

Part Three: Day Two


I was surprised when the information only took four weeks to arrive at the office. Kenji left it for me as he ran out of the office just as I arrived one day. He said something about making sure the route to the hospital was as fast as he hoped. I reminded him to make sure Miya drove, and he was gone. I slung the jacket of my aging brown suit onto the hat stand with my fedora and slumped behind the desk. The envelope was there, unopened. After calling Miss Sakamoto to confirm I could start the case again, I grabbed a letter opener from the desk and set to work.

The information was a copy of an enlistment form with the US Army. Well, that was one way to get citizenship. Good way to pay for college, too. This meant our next course of action was clear. Deciding going directly through the Department of Defense would take too long, though in hindsight, it would’ve been easier, I figured I’d call the Military Personnel Records section of the National Archives first. Once again I had to ask for someone who spoke Japanese, and it took a while for the tired woman on the other end to bring me off of hold.

“I’m sorry; we don’t have anyone on staff who can speak Japanese,” the woman said, her southern accent grating on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard, “We do have someone who knows Korean.”

I once again worked to keep defeat out of my voice as I responded, “…I’ll try English then.”

“Alright. How may we help you?” She asked.

“I need a copy of the… service record from…of, sorry… Noboru Takeda,” Lilly would be so proud.

“At what time did this person serve?” that took a second for me to work out, but I had the sense to have an online dictionary –a real one- open.

“…He’s a current member,” I responded, trying to stay assertive despite the language barrier. At least I hoped he was still enlisted; the date on his enlistment form was less than a week after his family’s house was blown up.

The clerk on the other end likely sensed my weakness as she prodded, “are you a blood relative or next of kin of the person in question?”

I sighed, “No, I have a waiver-”

“I’m sorry, but for currently active members, you must be a relative or next of kin to request the information.”
Another bought of translating. I can recite the first and last page of War of the Worlds from memory, but God forbid I learn English’s abominable sense of grammar.

I sighed, “His relatives don’t want to get involved,” I got the feeling the grandfather considered his grandson dead. The missing hand and photo of him in an Imperial Army uniform Kenji had observed when he obtained the waiver were a big clue as to why.

“The Department of Defense would be more able to handle your query, sir,” the clerk parried; this was seeming more and more like a lost cause.

I suppressed a sigh of defeat, “thank you, have a good day.”

I hung up the phone and, after a bit of searching and a coffee break, dialed the phone number of Fort Lewis, Washington state.

“Fort Lewis Public Affairs Office, how may we help you?” another female voice, this one precise and firm. That was after I had once again broken through the automated voice system.

Once more into the breach, “hello, do you have anyone on staff that speaks Japanese?”

“…One moment, please.” After being on hold for a few minutes, a new voice answered, this one male, but just as precise.

“Fort Lewis Public Affairs Office, this is Sergeant Maki, how can I help you?” the new voice asked.

Too much to hope Mr. Takeda would answer the phone, I guess, “Hi, I was wondering if you had a Noboru Takeda serving at Fort Lewis?”

“…Are you a-”

I sighed and preempted him, “no, I’m not a blood relative, next of kin, or relative through marriage. I have a waiver pertinent to the Freedom of Information Act, which doesn’t apply to you. I’m asking on behalf of a Haruhi Sakamoto.”

The man took a moment to rally himself from my curt response, “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t help you since you’re not a relative. I recommend you contact the Department of Defense directly.”

I suppressed another sigh, “unfortunately I don’t have the time for that.”

Sensing my weak position, the soldier quickly struck, “be that as it may, protocol must be adhered to.”

Trying to think out of the box, I asked, “Well, could you just ask around, informally?”

The soldier paused for a bit, then slowly responded, “that… sounds very suspicious, sir.”

I nodded absently at his assessment, “good point. I don’t suppose you have a form for this?”

The soldier actually chuckled at that, “I’m afraid not. Again, I recommend the DoD.”

I sighed and admitted defeat, “I was afraid of that. Thanks for your help.”

I hung up and leaned back in my chair, groaning at the new obstacle of bureaucracy. That was why I hated dealing with governments. A person you could coax, bribe, cajole, or beg. A system, an institution, you were powerless against, especially a conservative one. Well, you could fight it, but that was as useful as trying to stop a castle siege with a wooden spoon. Thinking of castles got me thinking of a new out of the box solution, one that might have enough personality behind it to fight the institution. One so ludicrous it was bound by the universe’s twisted sense of humor to work. One man stopped a parade of tanks; maybe one person could pierce through the red tape of the US Army. It was worth a shot; if it failed, we’d have to go through proper channels anyway.

I shook the tiredness from my head without much success and called Kenji’s house. I wasn’t surprised when Miya answered.

“Hey, Hisao, you need to talk to Kenji?” she asked when she answered.

“Yeah,” I suppressed a yawn with limited success, “sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she called for Kenji and a few seconds later he had replaced her on the line.

“When will it be over?” he asked, his pleading tone very familiar, as I had asked my father the same thing over five years ago.

“The moodswings and the cravings? When the kid’s born. Now, the reason I called is the Sakamoto case. Mr. Takeda joined the US Army-”

“Fuck,” Kenji groaned, “I hate dealing with militaries.”

“Yes, well, it’s not them; it’s the system,” I reminded him, “Which gave me an idea. We can’t fight the system, so we need to break it down to a one-on-one interaction in order for us to get what we need.”

“Which is?” Kenji asked.

“His location, try to focus, man,” if Kenji wasn’t already insane, the pressure of impending fatherhood would’ve sent him over the deep end months ago, “I think he’s at Fort Lewis, Washington state, but I’m not sure- it’s the closest base to where he was recruited, so it’s our only real lead. There’s no way going higher up will work, and we don’t have the budget to badger the DoD. We have to work at the regimental or brigade level. The problem with that is we can’t get that close.”

“Have you tried?” Kenji asked.

“Not yet,” I admitted, “but considering the response I got just dealing with their public relations office, we can expect the same response, if not worse.”

“You want me to try?” he asked

As hilarious as that might be, I’d rather avert a second war with America, “no, like I said, I have a plan. First, we need someone who speaks their language, so we can talk to whomever we want.”

“It would probably help if we could wrangle some noncom with access to staff records,” Kenji mused, his mind finally focused on the task before us; information and contact networks was one of Kenji’s specialties.

“Right, or someone in the base’s command staff,” I said, “That’ll be a tough nut to crack, but if someone with a refined, calming voice does it, maybe they could kill them with kindness, as it were.”

Kenji hadn’t quite caught on yet, but he did reply with, “it’s a longshot, man.”

I sighed myself at his reluctance, “I know, but it’s that or proper channels. Unless you wanna bother Claudia with this.”

Kenji snorted, “Hell, no; not after last time… So, we get someone calming, refined, and… you’re not serious.”

I grinned as he finally figured it out, “I can’t think of anyone more capable of breaking through the red tape of a military.”

“You’re assuming she’ll help,” Kenji pointed out.

“It’s us, how can she not?” I asked, “I’ll need you in the office, though, tomorrow. I can get her to come here. Oh, and get some tea- you know which kind.”

“You want me to get some wine, too?” Kenji asked.

“No,” I said, “we need her sober and fully coordinated. You’ve seen what she’s like when she drinks too much. We’ll get her to agree, give her the phone, and the rest is easy.”

“Alright, but… try and talk to the command staff yourself, just in case.”

“I will,” I assured him, “I’ll let you know if it works, but don’t be surprised if I don’t call back tonight.”

“Good luck, man,” Kenji stated.

“Thanks, you to,” remembering my own fears of becoming a parent, I added, “it will get easier.”

“I’m going to be a motherfuckin’ father, how the-” I hung up on Kenji’s ranting and prepared for another round with the US Army. Somehow I reached a clerk at the Fort’s command staff- I’m pretty sure I had lied and said I needed to confirm a delivery of toilet paper. At that point the whole mess was a hazy blur in my mind, so the details were a bit sketchy. I wasn’t surprised when a Sergeant -who refused to ask for someone else to take the call- firmly repeated everything I had just heard. He was quite polite about it, too. I asked for his full name and said I’d like whatever system was recording the call to make note of his politeness, despite my persistence and naivety. The flustered man hung up.

Well, I tried. That just left our hopeful ace in the hole.

If Lilly didn’t agree to help us, we were in trouble.

+++
Next Chapter

I’d do what Lilly told me to do. And yes, you may take that statement to its most perverted extremes.

I find it odd that out of all the violence free story ideas I could write, this is what I came up with.

Not sure why anymore. My go to excuse is the ghost of Theodore Roosevelt telling me what to do (hence all the large sticks I keep in my closet.)

Previous Chapter

Part Four: Day Three


Of all the things I’d seen and done- shot a pseudo-Space Marine with a cheap copy of a weapon developed by Nikola Tesla, fought a werewolf with my wife’s best friend’s sister, getting seduced by an orphan to convince me she wasn’t a defenseless child- having Lilly Williams nee Satou sitting next to me in our office was probably on the top of my list of things I never expected to, if you’ll pardon my word usage, see.

Dressed in a very expensive black skirted suit that went down to her ankles, Lilly stood straight in her chair as she sipped her French vanilla tea. I had managed to repurpose our coffee pot for the occasion, so all three of us -Kenji was sitting behind the desk as usual- had a cup of tea in front of us. Lilly was my wife’s best friend, and had been since high school. She was very tall, with long blond hair she kept in a ponytail with an old dark blue ribbon. Her blue eyes were clouded and completely useless. Her gray metal cane was collapsed and leaning next to her black briefcase next to the desk. A silver cross hung round her neck on a silver chain. Accompanying it was the Saint Lucy necklace she started wearing after her son was born.

She hadn’t been here for very long. Like me, she had come by straight from work. Also like me, she was a high school teacher, except she taught English, while I taught science. I also taught at a nearby public school, while she taught at a very prestigious Catholic girl’s school. She had also been driven by a secretary, and I just drove here myself, but never mind that.

“Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice,” Kenji said, trying to match Lilly’s high-class method of speech.

“I must say, I was quite surprised to be invited to your office, Kenji, Hisao,” she closed her eyes to sip her tea. When she opened them, she was wearing a grin that could best be described as cheeky, “one might be inclined to think you wanted something of me.”

I glanced at Kenji, who grimaced and shrugged to say we were busted. I sighed, “That would not be an inaccurate presumption.”

Lilly’s smile grew in its cheekiness, “ah, so you did want to ask something of me?”

“Pretty much,” Kenji replied.

“You always could see right through us,” I added.

Lilly smiled and turned her head slightly towards Kenji, “I have powers of Sight far beyond any mere mortal.”

I groaned and turned to glare at Kenji, “you are a terrible influence.”

Kenji grinned, “That’s my thing, man! That and my bitchin’ scarf.”

“So, how may I help you two?” Lilly asked.

I sipped my tea, trying to collect my thoughts. Kenji seemed content to let me handle this, so eventually I sighed and answered her. I gave her a basic rundown of our problem and what we wanted from her. While I did that, Kenji had stuck out his right hand for my cell phone, which I handed to him while I was talking. Although for something like this, I would’ve preferred a landline.

“…And that’s pretty much it,” I finished, “and the whole thing was Kenji’s idea.”

“Liar!” Kenji snapped, pointing a damning finger at my right shoulder.

“My, my, are you sure this is a good idea?” Lilly asked. The look on her face clearly said she thought it wasn’t.

Kenji grimaced and coughed, “frankly, no. I’m not looking forward to the possibility of a Predator drone flying up my ass.”

I rolled my eyes, “don’t overreact. We make a call. We get some information. It’s not really a big deal.”

“Then why have her do it?” Kenji asked.

“Because,” I said as I finished my tea, “we need someone who is calm, collected, and above all, persistent. Not to mention speaks the damn language fluently. We need to be direct, clear, and stubborn. And to do that, we need someone who can keep them on the phone long enough to listen.”

Kenji raised an eyebrow, “why not use a webcam and just have her flash him?”

“Excuse me?” Lilly interjected.

I smirked as I answered, “With our luck the guy would be gay.”

Kenji shrugged, “good point. So, Lilly, whadda ya say?”

Being stared at by a blind person can be very unnerving; it’s why they tend to wear sunglasses, or, in Lilly’s case, keep their eyes closed a lot. Watching those cloudy blue eyes look aimlessly at Kenji’s shoulder as she considered our proposal was far more nerve wracking then it should have been. Guess the case had got to me.

Kenji, never one to back down from a fight if he had even a chance of winning, stared right back at her, his beady eyes focused on her left ear. The two silently looked at each other -well, you know what I mean- their mutual silence conveying their emotions as the two entered a battle of wills.

“Lilly,” I said, and she reluctantly turned away from Kenji, her face setting itself to a reserved neutrality, “you’ve always been there for me and my wife. We’ve always been there for you and your husband. This is probably the weirdest, most ludicrous thing I’ve ever asked of you,” a muted snort told me I was correct in saying that, “but I ask you, help a young woman find love, like you helped me.”

Lilly sighed and slowly gave me a weak smile, “very well, Hisao. I suppose I can do this for you; especially if you’re going to appeal to my sense of romanticism.”

I smiled in relief at her agreement, “thank you.”

“Thanks” Kenji added. He stood up and carefully handed her the phone, “the number’s dialed, and here’s the script,” he pulled a sheet of Braille filled paper and placed it in front of Lilly.

“When did you make that?” I asked.

“This morning,” he said, “our book has a Braille edition, remember? I swung by the publisher and snuck into the copy room.”

“Perhaps it’s a good thing we don’t meet more often,” Lilly interjected. The smirk on her face showed she was enjoying Kenji’s antics, though.

“You love it and you know it,” was Kenji’s grinning reply, “there’s some paper and a pen to your right.”

“Thank you, Kenji. Oh, how is Miya?” she asked.

Kenji groaned and slumped back into his chair, “please don’t ask.”

Lilly giggled at that, “don’t worry. You’re a good man, and I’m sure you’ll be an excellent father.”

Kenji looked downcast as he stared down at the floor, “…what if the kid’s legally blind, too?”

Lilly frowned, “then they will be. And they will be as strong and upstanding as you are. Am I clear?”

Kenji straightened up at her firm tone, “yes, ma’am.”

Lilly nodded once and dialed the phone. While she was doing that she was fiddling with her Saint Lucy necklace, “in the end… we must take what we are dealt with, and do our best.”

At that point someone picked up the phone, so Lilly focused her efforts on the call. While she did that, Kenji and I huddled together so we could make sense of what she could be saying- at least we could eavesdrop on half the conversation. For work reasons, of course.

“Good morning, I apologize for bothering you so early… Well, that’s good; more people should make such an effort… Oh, I’m sorry, my name is Lilly Williams,” while she was talking, her free hand was grazing along the sheet of Braille, “yes, I know I shouldn’t be using this number, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m looking for someone. No, I’m not a relative. Yes, I am aware of that, but all I need is a name and an address to reach him. Are you sure? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but I was hoping such a dedicated young man such as yourself would see the innocence of my request. He’s an old family friend, and I miss him terribly, you see…”

The back and forth went on. I could tell Lilly was less then thrilled with the ideas Kenji had typed up, but she rolled with it all the same. When praise didn’t work she resorted to legal maneuvering, since Kenji had had some time to look into the matter. That made some progress, it seemed.

“So you see, it would mean a great deal to me if I was just able to contact him,” Lilly was saying after half an hour or so. My phone bill was going to be atrocious this month, “closure is so important to any relationship, from the most fleeting to the longest lasting, don’t you agree? Really? You will? Thank you so very much. Yes, of course I’ll wait.”

Lilly poised her pen and smiled toward our chairs- no doubt she had heard us whispering to each other as we worked out what she had been saying. A few moments later she slowly and meticulously started writing. When she was done she placed the pen down near the paper, thanked the person on the phone, and hung up.

“Noboru Takeda is a Specialist with an engineer battalion currently stationed in Guam,” Lilly said as she held my phone out. I took it, noticing I had a text message waiting.

“You got an address?” Kenji asked.

Lilly nodded, “an address, the commanding officer’s contact information, and even the proper things to say to circumvent Homeland Security.”

“Hot damn!” Kenji shouted, clapping his hands together so loudly Lilly flinched. He reached into one of the desk drawers and yanked out a bottle of scotch and three glasses, “this calls for a celebratory drink!”

“No kidding,” I said, “I’ll call Miss Sakamoto tonight and have her come in tomorrow. After that it’s up to her. Oh,” I turned from Kenji to Lilly as I accepted my shot, “Hanako sent me a text. She said she’d be coming by on the Birmingham to take you home.”

“The… Birmingham?” something approaching horror seeped into Lilly’s face before being repressed as she sipped her scotch.

“Yeah, she’s got an extra helmet and a rack for your briefcase, so it should be fine.”

Lilly clearly didn’t like that news; despite her neutral tone, the fear carved on her face was unmistakable “…I can call George to pick me up.”

“Hanako said he was busy with work,” I stated.

Lilly sighed and started drinking her scotch a little faster. I wanted to stop her, but Dutch courage was still courage. When she had drained it she spoke up again, “must it be the Birmingham?”

“Afraid so,” I replied, then started ticking off the other bikes in her collection, “the Indian’s too small, the Yamaha has a bad carburetor, the Harley is way too noisy for you, and the Mitsubishi needs a new front tire. Oh, and her car needs an oil change.”

“Didn’t she do that last week?” Kenji asked.

I shook my head, “Refia caught some sniffles and kept her busy, and you know how she is about her babies- all of them. Hell, even I’m not allowed to touch the bikes, and she refuses to have anyone else work on them, or the cars.”

Lilly sighed, “Well, it will be nice to see her, at least. It has been a few days since we met for tea or a meal.”

“There you go,” Kenji said, getting up and patting Lilly on the shoulder, “when life hands you lemons, you burn life’s house down. With the lemons.”

Lilly sighed and smiled weakly, “Kenji, you are a very strange man.”

Kenji nodded and grinned diabolically, “damn straight.”

+++
Next Chapter

You probably remember Lilly’s necklace from the Halloween Special. For those who don’t, she is the patron saint of the blind. She’s also, oddly enough, the patron saint of writers (among other things.)

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the image of Lilly clinging to Hanako for dear life at 50 kph is to me insanely hilarious. I’m immature like that.

“in the end… we must take what we are dealt with, and do our best.”

After being dealt with, we even have to take the thing they did it with? Life sure can be cruel...

...I need an English textbook...

Actually, in this instance it works, because she's referring specifically to her blind son. He being the thing she was dealt; she must "take" the "thing" that she was dealt, and do her best -raise her son.

I got really lucky with that word usage, and I won't even deny it

Thanks for reading and critiqueing; I enjoy the directions it makes my mind go .