This is my first Ghost in the Shell story. Granted I ought to be spending time working on all my over stories. Sometimes I can't got my Muse to focus.

Enjoy!

Prologue.

I hate this job. I hate it because I had become fond of the old man. I like him though not enough to save his life. Orders were orders and a good solider always follows his orders. Liking him only made it a bit harder to do the job; harder, but not impossible. It was a shame really. He was a good man and a competent cook. He treated me well though he didn't have to. I was the dishwasher, a gaijin dishwasher, so I was ignored and kept mostly to myself. But good ole Hideki always took the time to say hello to me though the rest of the staff left me alone. Some nights, when I had a hard time keeping up with everyone I'd have to stay after hours and Hideki would stay with me to keep me company. He would even start working with me, anytime I'd protest he would wave his large hands in my face and would pretend he couldn't understand my Japanese until I gave up. It was real decent of him. Like tonight, it was a holiday, one of those special ones that make everyone go out to celebrate. It was a full house, which meant the kitchen was a mad house and I had struggled to keep up with the demand for clean cutlery and dinnerware; which meant there was a back flow of pots and pans from the kitchen. I told the other guys who clean dishes that I would cover for them so they could leave early in order to enjoy the holiday too. They stared at me as if I had insulted them, but once the kitchen started to get busy they pulled off the gloves and their aprons. They told me to cover for them. I nodded and promised that I would. They didn't even say thank you.

He's talking about his daughter again. If everything he said about her is true then she's one hell of a girl; highly accomplished. According to him she was a master violinist; the ace for the girls' volleyball team; was a master in fencing; was in the top five percent in her class, top fifteen of the whole school, plus she tutored the younger kids in her spare time. He was really proud of her, I could tell. He couldn't shut up about her. When he recounted her recent fencing match he would grab a ladle and reenact the whole thing. His great weight would shift bumping into me and I'd drop a dish. "Don't worry about it," he'd laugh and slap me on my back. That's why I liked him, nothing bad ever seem to jar him.

We were putting the dried plates into neat stacks on a shelf when I went into action.

I grabbed the chef's knife when he turned his back to me. I raised it high over my head for maximum impact and brought it down in his back. He made a short gasping sound of surprise and staggered forward. I jumped onto his back before he could turn around and plunged the chef's knife into his back again and again. He pitched forward and crashed into the cabinet sending all the plates we'd just spent the last two hours cleaning to the floor. Again and again I stabbed him. He struggled trying to get me off but I didn't stop, knowing that with each movement opening his wounds, he would bleed out soon. He stumbled to the floor his breath ragged and swallow. I refused to meet his gaze as he died. I didn't need to see the confusion and denial of what was happening to him.

My job here was done. I flipped over the body and rummaged around in the old man's pockets and pulled out a key chain with the restaurant's keys I went into the manager's office and raided the safe.

I had to pass his lifeless body in order to make it to the service exit. I knew it would be bad, but still I looked at him his head turned to the side. "Sorry" I said sincerely. "It's business."

End of Prologue.