Looking For Trouble
by
Jeremy Harper
Disclaimer – Ranma ½ is the property of Rumiko Takahashi. Teen Titans is the property of DC Comics. Both are used without permission.
Chapter 10.
"Looks quiet," said Roy.
"It is one-thirty on a Sunday afternoon," Ranma pointed out.
"Yeah, but we just hit these clowns hard. You think we'd be seeing some sort of activity."
"True. Most likely their leadership is meeting at a more secure location. Oyabun's residence, maybe."
Ranma and Roy lurked on the roof of a building, across the street from the yakuza's public office. They were in uniform, scanning the office front. It seemed deserted, the large windows' shutters were drawn, the lights out. Only a little foot traffic passed on the street below.
"I still can't get over how brazen the yakuza are here in Japan," Roy commented. He unhitched a canteen from his utility belt, took a sip and offered it to Ranma. He nodded at the office door, where the clan's name was stenciled on the glass. "I can't imagine Brick advertising himself to the world at large. These guys might as well put up a big neon sign: crooks congregate here; skeezy shit is going down."
Ranma snorted before taking a pull from the canteen and passing it back. "Well, I don't think much is going down right now. Let's take advantage of it and check the place out, see if we can get a clue on where Strange is."
The two teen vigilantes got around to the back of the building without being spotted and went in through the rear door, easily unlocking it and shutting down the security alarm. They made a quick but thorough search of the Yakuza business office, making sure the place was as deserted as it seemed, leaving the lobby for last. Glancing through the doorway, Roy clicked his tongue.
"Nightwing."
"Yeah, I see it." Ranma went in, going over to and kneeling by a small stain on the carpet. "Blood. Drying but recent, maybe a few hours old." He looked around before going back to Roy. "Looks like some of the furniture has been moved too, pushed askew and no one bothered to straighten it."
"There was a fight. You think they tried to brace Strange?"
"Possible. Maybe some kyodai panicked, got stupid, and blamed Strange for us raiding their warehouse. If they did try to muscle Strange they're probably regretting it."
They left the lobby and returned to the spartan private office they had noted, a plaque bearing the name Daichi Heira set on its door.
"You hit the filing cabinets," Ranma said, gesturing to a corner of the room. "I'll check the computer."
"Feh. Hope your anti-virus is up-to-date. That thing's probably packed with creepy Japanese porn."
"Thanks for disparaging my culture, Arsenal. And by the way, it's called hentai," he said dryly.
"Hey, not my fault that some of your fellow countrymen have weird kinks. Shibari, for example."
"You really shouldn't go throwing stones. I've seen some of the stuff you got on your tablet."
"Okay, I'm shutting up now."
"Wise decision." Ranma sat down behind the desk, turning on the computer and activating his gauntlet portable's hacking system. "This shouldn't take me too long. Doubt the clan has military-grade security or LexCorp encryption programs."
"Yeah, but digging through all the trash to find anything useful may take a while."
"Not like we got anything better to do right now."
"True." Roy took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders before pulling open the first cabinet drawer. "Let's get this done."
Haru finished packing his duffle bag and stepped back from his messy bed, taking a deep breath, trying to will his hands to stop shaking. He needed to go, now and quickly. He had already wasted too much time, cowering in his apartment, not knowing who he feared would show up more – Nightwing or his cousin.
He shuddered as he recalled the last few hours. He had awoken in the alley where Nightwing had jumped him, lying face down behind some trashcans, his wrists and ankles bound and his phone buzzing in his pocket. He wanted to call out for help, but had been afraid, not wishing to answer the inevitable questions, especially if a cop was the one to find him. After what felt like an eternity the zip-ties binding him spontaneously unraveled, and he pushed himself up on shaky legs, head aching, his bladder badly distended, his limbs numb. After relieving himself in the alley he slowly, painfully made his way home, the city very quiet in the early morning hours. When he finally reached his apartment he remembered he got a call and checked it. His blood went cold when he saw his cousin had left a message. As he listened to his voice mail he started to tremble – Matsuhiro screamed at him, raving that Nightwing and some other costumed freak had raided the warehouse and had left a major clan operation a shambles, exposed to the authorities, and blamed Haru because of his inability to keep it in his pants. Haru quickly deleted the message and collapsed on his battered couch, a whine humming in his throat as he trembled and tried not to cry from the cold, painful fear clutching at his guts.
He shook his head sharply, trying to rally his courage. He thanked his ancestors and any kami that listened that he had a passport and had some money saved up. Japan was too small to hide in – not if the oyabun and his advisers thought it was worth their effort to track him down. And no doubt they will, he thought bitterly, since they got that masked bastard riding them. Haru planned on fleeing to Australia – the clan presence there was small, the continent was big enough to easily get lost in, and Haru knew enough English to have at least a modicum of a chance to make a living.
He took another deep breath, swallowing. You can do this. You got a chance. Just keep your head low and play it smart. He nodded to himself, slung his duffle over his shoulder and headed for his bedroom door. The moment he stepped into the hallway someone seized him, grabbing the back of his neck, hammerlocking his left arm and slamming him face-first into the wall.
I can't believe this! Haru thought hysterically. The attack felt familiar – maybe Nightwing had tracked him down to shake more information out of him. If so, at least he had a chance of convincing the vigilante of letting him go if he explained his life was in danger.
"Come on, man!" he cried. "I told you everything I knew last night. God's truth, Nightwing, I got-"
"I'm not Nightwing," a cold, deep voice rumbled in his ear. "Unfortunately for you."
His duffle was stripped from him as he was spun around and slammed into the wall. His assailant was a gaijin, dressed in a sharkskin sport jacket and dark pants. His face was pale and angular, with a strong jaw and sharp nose. His jet-black hair was cut short and swept back from a broad brow. Steel-gray eyes, as merciless and soulless as a Great White's, raked over the young gangster in pitiless appraisal. It took Haru a moment to recognize the man. When he did he felt all the blood rush out of his face, and his surroundings began to spin in a vertiginous whirlwind. It was his cousin's important foreign business associate, the man the soldiers guarding the warehouse had spoken about in respectful, fearful whispers. Haru managed to remember the man's name from the chaotic maelstrom of his frightened mind: Merlyn.
"What do you want?" he managed to gasp out. If not for the iron grip on him he would have collapsed into a terrified heap.
"My employer wishes to speak to you," Merlyn replied. He vised Haru's arm, grabbed him by the hair, and marched him out to the living room. Another gaijin sat on the couch, legs crossed, hands steepled before his impassive face, impeccably dressed in stark black and white. His was bald, with a bristling, salt and pepper beard bracketing his hard mouth. Narrowed eyes peered out from behind round spectacles, surveying Haru with a cold, clinical interest that made the young gangster shiver with apprehension. Somehow this short, scholarly-looking man frightened him even more than the deadly criminal at his back.
Merlyn forced Haru to his knees, gripping his shoulders, thumbs pressing down on the flesh at either side of his neck. The bearded man uncrossed his legs, setting his hands on his knees as he leaned forward.
"Mr. Haru Takamura," he rumbled. "I am Professor Hugo Strange. You have caused me some inconvenience with your indiscriminate use of the pharmaceuticals I provided your cousin and his employers. Your idiotic lust has attracted the attentions of forces I wished to avoid."
"I... I..." Haru's attempt at a protest twisted into a gasp of pain as Merlyn's thumbs dug into nerve clusters.
"Hush," whispered Merlyn.
"However," continued Strange, "you may have information that could be of interest to me – something that could ameliorate the punishment I have in mind for you."
"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Haru stuttered. He cried out as again Merlyn pressed down with his thumbs.
"That is not what we want to hear, boy," he said. I think we'll need to jog your memory."
"Leave that to me, Mr. Merlyn," said Strange. He reached down and opened a large black bag by his feet. From it he removed a black clamshell case. "While your techniques are effective, I prefer more subtle methods of interrogation." From the clamshell he produced a vial of bluish-green liquid and a large hypodermic syringe with a needle six inches long. Haru's eyes bulged, a hysterical whine building in his throat.
"Hold him still while you bear his neck," instructed Strange. He inserted the needle into the vial's rubber stopper, preparing to load the syringe. "If I'm not precise with the injection, Mr. Takamura may suffer unfortunate side-effects."
"No, no, please!" cried Haru, frightened tears brimming in his eyes. "Don't do this. Ask me! Just ask me!"
Hugo Strange tilted his head slightly, considering the young man's plea. He nodded once, putting away the syringe and formula.
"Two nights ago, you drugged a young woman at a club," he said. "Is this correct?"
"Y... Yes..."
"Somehow, this woman resisted the effects of the Rohypnol-derivative. That should not be possible. I want you to tell me what exactly happened. Be precise, Mr. Takamura – the avoidance of pain depends on your thoroughness."
Haru swallowed, nodding slowly. He began to speak, telling Strange of what happened at Wonderland, from the moment the girl had drank his doped soda to when he fled from the alleyway after her date had beaten his friends. The foreign professor questioned him ruthlessly, demanding minute details he barely noticed and strained desperately to recall. Strange's steady, implacable gaze seemed to dissect his mind, cut open his soul to bear to the light his deepest secrets.
The young gangster finished and Strange bowed his head slightly, his eyes falling half-closed as he reviewed what he had learned. After a short space of time he looked up.
"Do you know this woman's name?" Strange asked.
Haru shook his head. He felt utterly spent, his head aching, but despite this he felt slight hope. For perhaps the first time in his adult life he had been completely truthful. He was sure Strange realized this, and would let him go.
"What did she look like?"
"Hot," answered Haru.
Strange frowned. "That is not useful, Mr. Takamura."
Haru gulped. "Her hair was cut short. A bob, I guess. Had a nice rack – killer legs, too. She was dressed all in black, a tube top with some English writing on it and a mini-skirt."
Strange scowled briefly, not impressed by the description. "And her date. What of him?"
Haru shook his head again. "I don't remember." He smirked a little, his hope making him foolish. "All you gaijin look alike." He screamed in agony when Merlyn bore down on his shoulders.
"Answer the question," said Merlyn.
"I don't remember much about him!" he whined. "It was dark in the club and the alleyway. He was white – an American, I guess. Only thing I know for certain is he's a tough bastard."
"Very well, Mr. Takamura," said Strange. He picked up his bag and stood up. "I believe you. Thank you for your cooperation and frankness." He nodded once.
Merlyn seized Haru by the head and twisted sharply. There was a muffled, wet crack and Haru spasmed as if jolted by a live wire. Merlyn released him, letting him fall lifeless to the floor, head lolling on a broken neck. Merlyn dusted his hands clean and looked inquiringly at Strange.
"We are done here," said Strange. "I need to return to the laboratory and see if Mr. Heira acted prudently. I want you to go to this night club and see what else you can learn." His cruel mouth quirked slightly in thought. "What do you suppose the chances are, Mr. Merlyn, that this young woman's date runs in our circles?"
"Very good," answered Merlyn. "Men capable of beating three-to-one odds in a fight without breaking a sweat are not common."
"Indeed. Perhaps the girl will be of more use than I initially guessed."
Roy heaved out a deep breath as he shut the last filing drawer, standing up from his squat and shrugging his shoulders. "I hate this sort of scut work," he grumbled.
"I'm not fond of it, either," Ranma agreed, pushing back from the office desk. "You find anything?"
The archer turned to his friend. "Just confirmation of things we already surmised – receipts for lab equipment, chemical supplies, stuff like that. They're dated from between a week ago to about five months back. There are also some delivery invoices written out for a few different addresses in Tokyo."
"Tell me." Roy rattled off the addresses. Ranma grinned. "I found some e-mails discussing increased security and staffing for an office building in Setagaya. Its address matches the last one you mentioned."
"We going to head over there now?"
Ranma shook his head. "We'll wait for dusk to investigate."
"We'll be giving Strange more time to get away."
"If he wanted to run he'll have already done so. He's had plenty of time since we hit the clan warehouse. We'll have an easier time infiltrating the place at night – let's not throw away any advantages."
"Good points. God knows I don't want to fight another Monster Man on anything close to even terms. You find anything else?"
"Two things." Ranma shut down his gauntlet portable. "I ran across multiple references to 'foreign consultants' helping with 'the expansion of our interests.' They never name anyone, of course, but I don't like that plural."
Roy frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe Strange brought some henchmen with him?"
"Could be. Or maybe they brought in other chemists to help refine their production. For all I know Walter White could be holed up in that office with Strange." Roy snorted at that. Ranma shrugged. "We'll have to be a bit more careful when we hit the place."
"Noted. What else?"
Ranma stood up from the office chair, rubbing his jaw. "There's also mentions of something called 'the Gaki Files.' It's something that the clan has accessed to and is going to be part of the payment for their primary consultant's services."
"Gaki... Hungry ghost. That sounds ominous."
Ranma nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and if Strange wants it I have no doubt it's gonna be something nasty. It sounds familiar, but I can't place it. I want to consult the Batcomputer and see if there's anything on it in Batman's case files."
"Sounds like a plan. We done here?"
"Yeah, let's head back. We've pushed our luck being here as long as we have as it is." The two teen superheroes did a quick visual sweep of the office, making sure they had left no sign of their presence, then departed the way they had entered.
With the judicious application of generous bribes and veiled threats, Malcolm Merlyn was allowed access to Wonderland's security room, where he scrubbed through club surveillance footage from Friday night. He played through multiple tapes, starting around eleven-thirty, the rough time Haru said he approached and drugged the woman. Merlyn soon found the young man and his victim, and nodded to himself as he committed the girl's appearance to memory, observing her from different angles.
Merlyn continued to play the footage, waiting for the woman's date to show. He watched Haru start to make his way to the front doors, the woman on his arm. Then someone came quickly after them – someone very familiar to Merlyn. Someone who he had hoped – indeed, expected, to see. The dark archer smiled a shark's grin.
"Roy," he murmured, well-pleased. "I knew it was you. Like teacher, like student – always can count on you to be chasing tail."
Merlyn went to the club's business office to talk to the manager again. "I want to see your V.I.P. List for Friday night."
The man looked doubtful. "I don't know... I've already given you more access than I should. Our patrons have a right to privacy." He faltered a little under Merlyn's cold eyes, but rallied when shown a roll of yen notes in large denominations. The manager quickly found the desired list.
Merlyn scanned it. Near the top of the list was written 'Roy Harper with Nabiki Tendo'. He nodded, handing back the list then holding out the money roll. When the manager reached for it Merlyn grabbed his hand and twisted it, not enough to injure, but firm enough to immobilize. The pudgy man gasped as this intimidating gaijin thrust his face close to his.
"You have not seen me," he whispered. "I was never here."
"Of... of course, sir." Merlyn let him go and left, leaving the manager sweating and shaken, wondering with much trepidation what exactly he had abetted.
Author's Notes: If people are interested, I've started a new story in the Shadows-verse, though it doesn't star Ranma or Akane. Ladybug and Cat Noir are the beloved new Heroes of Paris. Over the course of their young careers, they've fought a wide variety of powerful and unusual foes – weather manipulators; shape-shifters; armored would-be tyrants; pigeons. A non-powered cat burglar should be no problem for them, right?
Feline-ious takes place around the beginning of Shadows Over Nerima, just as Ranma and Alfred are flying out to Tokyo. Check it out if you like what I've been doing here and enjoy Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir.
This was something of a quiet chapter, but a necessary one. The home stretch is in sight, and the trouble Ranma, Akane and Roy are looking for is coming to a head.
Thanks again to PurseMonger for her pre-reading, support and invaluable suggestions.