The Shinjuku ward was deep into its neon blitz, with men with cheap suits and cigarettes soliciting services for their host and hostess clubs. If you look in the right places, you can find the usual strip clubs and blowjob bars. You can find prostitutes, knee-deep in debt, waiting for the right customer to come along. Usually the right ones are lonely business folks with money lining their pockets.
Shinjuku is the very dark heart of Tokyo, the world nobody discovers because they were busy looking the other way, stepping only into the world of food, anime, and culture. Nobody gave this heart its two-cents' worth; nobody expect the perverted underbelly of Japan.
The Crossroads Bar was empty, save for two souls. Eri Misaki was tending the place, drying off shot glasses, waiting for her late shift to end. Jazz music was playing in the background, and the overhead lights gave the establishment its usual dark purple aura.
"Misaki-san, another Wild Turkey!" Ichiko Ohya was already one foot over the edge of drunk, and having a Wild Turkey would take her over from tipsy to smashed in a matter of seconds.
"Ohya, I think you're done tonight. Besides, I gotta close out the bar." Her disdain was written on her face.
"Come on, just one more shot for the road, then I'll be out! Please?"
"I think your liver has one last shot to live."
Ohya turned away from her, pouting her lips. "Lala was a better bartender than you. And hey, I'm celebrating here! I've been working the real reporter beat! No more entertainment, but real juicy-"
A young brunette walked into the bar. She shifted her sights from the stools to the booths in the back and walked down to a seat at the end of the bar.
"Miss, I'm sorry but we're closing soon. I'm not taking any calls."
"Just a water, miss. Please?" She looked up to Misaki. Her eyes were dead, lifeless, as she stared at her. Fatigue and desperation were lined under her red eyes.
Misaki took a moment to consider. "Alright." She then searched for a clean glass before another patron walked in. He was wearing a baggy hoodie, and his eyes surveyed the purple haze of a bar. He then pulled up his hood, covered his face with a black bandana, and pulled out a Glock 19.
"Don't move," he shouted. "No noise and moves, or the bartender gets it."
Everyone was stunned. The girl at the end of the bar was silent and shocked by fear, and Ohya, despite her drunkenness, knew better when there was a gun pointed at someone's head.
Misaki stood still and complied with the robber's demands. He wanted the cash received from the day and night shift - all of it in full. Misaki soon pulled out the tray of the register, began to stuff it into a plastic bag. She needed to buy time and get her mugger distracted in order to reach under the counter and grab her .45 semiautomatic.
Once she gave the bag to the robber, the criminal soon walked over to Ohya and held her by gunpoint.
"Now, I'm going to go through the back with her. Any cops come after me, the woman bites it, you hear me," he shouted at the bartender. He dragged her through the bar, Ohya unsuccessfully trying to shake him off. The young brunette sat on her stool, trying to stay out of this situation. She held her hands to her ears, shielding herself from the quiet chaos around her.
"Hey, what are you doing? You calling the police," he said, enraged. He reached out to pull her arms out, only to find nothing in her hands.
Misaki took the risk. She reached under the counted and pulled out her gun. She took a crack shot at the gunman. It missed, almost grazing his head. She rapidly fired a second shot, this time nicking his hostage by the arm. The third shot never came; the gun jammed on her.
The robber threw Ohya down hard on one of the stools, and drew his aim at Misaki. He fired two shots to her chest, sending her down to the ground. After that, silence took over the bar, even though the jazz music was still running. The robber looked at the two women - Ohya bleeding from her nose and the young woman staring at him, paralyzed by fear, tears running down her cheek.
"Please, don't," she begged.
He drew his weapon on them and fired point-blank.