Moving Onwards
Stranger in a Strange Land
By Pat Squared
Message from Pat Squared!
Enjoy this St. Patty's Day, My day
So review
Otherwise St. Patty might just come over
And play Shenanigans with you!
Mirror World...
Violetta Lee remembered the phase from William Gibson's book, Pattern Recognition. She remembered reading about Kanji Land and the main character, a cool hunter's, phobia of brand names and logos. It detailed Cool-hunter Cayce Pollard journey to find a mysterious artist...the book spoke to parts of the young girl that she did not know existed.
Since Violetta's family tree experience in Mrs. Bloom's second grade class, she felt like she was only watcher from behind the one way mirror. Like Pollard, she traveled through the world and yet was not a part of it. She did not belong in the world like the other children did. Every so often she would set something into motion and find herself watching as if it was just a video. Alone, she felt detached...not empty...not soulless, but detached from the world that constantly betrayed her as she betrayed the boy caught up in her net.
She looked up in the rear view mirror. The mirrored sunglasses she stole from the now unconscious UPS Driver tied up in the back of the brown UPS van shielded the inhabitants of Kanji land from her non-ninhonjin green eyes. However, she was the one staring out behind the one way mirrors into another mirror to see the crouching form of the one thing that seemingly connected her back to the world.
"Ronnie, we got to ditch this ride."
"How are we...?"
"Grand Theft Auto Middleton...Why buy when you can jack? It's not like we are going for full tilt 7-alarm with Team Possible after us."
Ronald Possible Stoppable remember playing that game until he raked up seven stars. His virtual persona was whooped by a virtual copy of his parents...down to the heart boxers his father wore when his father's pants would slip down. His mother sued and Rockstar had to recall the game. However, Vee still had a copy. Vee always had a copy, pirated of course, of every banned game she ever heard of.
Violetta examined her best friend boy friend squirm and felt guilty at the thought of committing yet another crime.
Violetta knew that had ruined his life. She had roped him into her life of lies, deception, and now crime. In her quest to have or maybe even feel something she did not deserve...she had slowly suffocated everything that made him special. Because he was her friend...he found himself a loner alienated from the other boys. Because she had to be the best...he did not push himself to live up to his talents so he did not threaten her accomplishments. Because she was afraid of letting him go...she had taken his heart along with his virginity. Because she had taken his heart...he now was caught up in her very own slice of hell.
Violetta grabbed the napkin and coughed up into it. She carefully tossed the used napkin into the plastic grocery bag that they were using as a trash bag. She did not have to examine the napkin. She knew that there was blood in her phlegm.
Vee...Ronnie has to know. You own him that much for being in your corner all these years.
She know she own him more than she could repay in a hundred lifetimes. She had sucked everything good from him. She had seduce him to rope him into her messed up life. She owed him the truth. However, every time she tried...she choked up.
Ronnie, I'm dying.
However, no matter what, she could never say the third word to him.
It was hard to admit that you dying to yourself, let alone the one person that you needed.
Fourteen years old and knowing that you will never have a prom night...Ain't life a kick in the head, followed by one in the ass?
No one quite knew what to expect...she least of all. The other Red Crystal babies all died before their second birthday. Like her in her infancy, Red crystal babies were worse than colicky babies. She somehow outgrew it. The others would eventually be silenced, go into a catatonic state, and eventually die. She had somehow survived fourteen years of existence hooked to that poison. The docs called her lucky and had written dozens of case studies about her and why she had not yet succumbed to the poison. She had been repeatedly bled to provide samples to the lab rats and biotech vampires in an effort to find the source of her survival.
However, no one lives forever.
It was the little things at first telling her that fate was finally catching up with her. Signs that only the girl in the brown UPS uniform could sense in the beginning. Then the doctors picked up on it. They wouldn't tell her to spare her the emotional trauma. They told her foster mother that she was not getting better. Then later they told her foster mother that she was getting worse. She remembered the last visit.
Tita Berta's eyes were red. Her left eye was darting faster than the right.
"What is the news?"
The lie came out of Tita Berta mouth. Tita Berta said everything was okay and that Vee could expect a life as long as any.
Violetta spotted the lie even before it escape her foster mother's mouth, "Okay."
The doctor, Tita Berta, and she all knew that she knew her time was coming up. However the lie had to be preserved. It was easier than getting the brick to the face. Her fate was like the ultimate drink in the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy...a brick to the face with a faint aftertaste of lemon. The lie was the lemon that make the brick to the face bearable. Lies are only for those that you love.
Later that night, after Tita Berta went to sleep, Vee examined the paperwork that Tita Berta got from the doctor. It was now on paper...signed by the MD...it was as official as any notarized document...Violetta Lee was slowly dying. Her body was starting to reject the medication that was required to keep her alive.
God hated her. Her mother had to hate her...why else would Violetta's mother give up living after seeing her. Her mother must have known that she suffered to only bring a flawed girl into this world. Vee had wished that she simply died as she was programmed to die.
She did not consider herself lucky. Lucky was dying before you have something that made you want to live. Lucky was dying before you knew that you could never be fully human like the other kids. Lucky was not being stuck behind the one way mirror that trapped your soul and asphyxiated it until you were no longer one of masses.
"Ronnie, I need you to get into the spa...spare UPS outfit. Keep the cap on. Everyone remembers the uniform...not the man."
I don't know how many lesions I have left, Ronnie.
Vee took in a deep breath and bit her lower lip wondering just what she was going to do next.
I can not freak out. If I freak out, Ronnie will freak out. If he freaks out here, he will be in trouble. Come on girl, he is depending on you to figure a way out of this mess.
However, all Vee could think off was to ditch the van...
That would have to be enough for now.
Anger...rage...fatherly pride.
Hirotaka Yamanouchi could not settle on which emotion to give his attention to at this moment.
He looked at his three naked Yakuza bodyguards trying to cover their shrinking genitals with their hands at they knelt.
"You fools...I actually trusted you with firearms. Am I a baka? Am I a baka? AM I A BAKA! ANSWER ME?"
Then Hirotaka laughed.
"We are not in America with their National Rifle Association ensuring that we can just go down and buy a pistol at the corner store. If you knew what I had to do to get you each a pistol...I should..."
He kicked them and spat in their face.
"I would ask you to slit your belly, but then...no way in hell I will let you get the honor my father got. You have seventy two hours to retrieve those pistols and bring me those two kids unhurt...At least the girl. Don't underestimate the difficulty of the task...this one is just about every bit as crafty as me. She is my daughter and if she is hurt in any way...you won't be needing your dicks anymore."
The collective shock on the three yakuzi thugs was priceless as the credit card ads went.
The surveillance video showed an Amerkican-jin redhead boy and a half-Japanese girl sneaking into the men's locker room. They showed the butt scratcher not spotting the boy under the drink cart and the girl. Hirotaka examined the way that the girl held unto the pistol. It was obvious that despite her youth, she knew how to use it and better yet was ready to actually pull the trigger. There was a killer instinct behind those green eyes.
He suppressed a smile.
She is a killer, just like daddy. She just does not know it yet. These three are just cannon fodder. I can't await to see my daughter kill her first man.
The Yamanouchi had trained his child. However, she did not follow the Yamanouchi book to the letter like everyone else who walked out the doors. She was almost ready to follow him into his world.
Soon, she will be mine. However she won't just do something because I say so. I need leverage.
He thought. He pondered. He replayed the footage in his head. He calculated all the angles. He plotted half a dozen...no a dozen different moves in his head...discarding and discovering possibilities until he was satisfied. Soon every step his child will take will be on the path that he shaped for her.
Love...the boy...the boy is her weakness and her strength.
"As for the boy...do what you must, but nothing permanent is to happen. His father was one of my most respected rivals...Having a chance to defeat his son is an honor too great for you. I want them both alive...unhurt...relatively unhurt. Otherwise, Susan-chan will use you as ballast for her kicking bag."
The faces of the three Yakuza were white. This new boss was not like the others. The other bosses were traditional. One knew where one stood. Failure meant the loss of a finger or in the worse case seppuku. Hirotaka had taken over using unorthodox methods. Now failure was a lot more painfull.
They had seen what Susan-chan and her sister did to the last failure. Being turned into a piƱata by a pair of nine year olds was beyond any shame that any Yakuza could contemplate before the rise of Yamanouchi-san. Susan-chan was psychopathic pedophile's delight. A cold killer in a nine year old cute package. Hello Kitty molded by Satan himself.
The little girl giggled and pointed at one of the men, "Ojisan (uncle)...may I have this one to play with now."
Hirotaka looked at the disturbed little girl, "Later, you will get all three if they don't perform."
The little girl giggled, "The bag for you. The hooks for you. And for you...something very special. You're so cute when you turn white. I see the look in your eye. You want to love me. I promise to love you back. It won't hurt...too much."
Hirotaka smiled, "Oh yes...the girl you are chasing is this one's cousin. Don't underestimate her because she is an Amerikan-jin. She in her way is more ruthless than Susan-chan. Unlike Susan-chan, Vee-chan is not yet tamed."
"What do you mean you lost them, Kenji-san?"
The old instructor was pale. In twenty seven years of being an instructor at Yamanouchi, not one of his charges managed to escape his sharp eyes.
Today this line on his impressive resume would have to be deleted.
"They vanished. The back up radio beacons at still at the drop site and have been retrieved without incident. All I know is that Hirotaka knows they are there and is sending out his minions to find his daughter."
Yori closed her tired eyes. Yes a test had to be done...but Kenji Akaguchi just had to give them the worst possible of tests. Only those who are graduating get this test and even then only the best got tested this way.
"They can not get far. Two Amerikan-jin outside the usual tourist traps and one of them can't speak Japanese. You will find them first and bring them back here. We can not bury Master Sensei's remains until his granddaughter is here. I know Violetta. She is perhaps one of the more talented con artists I have ever met. This is something...a whisper of the spirit that tells me that Vee-chan is the jade inside the stone. Scamming...she will scam. She will pull the biggest scam she can think of. When it goes down, I want you to remove our students before any police entanglements ensue. Horoshi-san will be tasked with diverting Hirotaka's attention."
If Kenji Akaguchi was not Japanese...he would be fidgeting like a six year old boy who really had to go to the toilet, but he was Japanese. The old Yamanouchi instructor merely bowed his head a fraction of a millimeter in shame.
"I will have them soon...unhurt or I will be no more, mistress."
"No. No more seppuku. We have an old comrade turned mortal enemy. You must train the next generation of Yamanouchi ninja. I remembered when you terrorized me and my classmates. I need you to do the same for the next generation and whip them into shape."
Yori examined the old man, "Why did you place those two in this test?"
"Only the finest blades are tested the most severely. They are truly their father's children."
Yori prayed that Kenji's observations were correct.
Gregory Alekseevich stared down the front post sight of his AKSU-74 at the dying man.
The man was old...Old enough to be one of those former KGB-types from the former regime.
Whoever this was, the young police officer knew that the man would not live long enough to be interrogated by the old state torturer turned village doctor.
Behind him were his charges. Behind him were the wives and children of his fellow policemen. The boss's wife was similarly armed, but he was the only trained one left. This was his village and he was not going to let bandits take it over.
"Mrs. Posibeev. Get the others down to the basement; should there be a need, there is a tunnel we use to move around from house to house during the winter blizzards. God be with you."
However, the boss's wife was perhaps the only creature in this world more stubborn than the boss.
"No, Gregory Alekseevich. God will be with us all. We are a family. We live together and we fight together."
"Then take the kids. I need to know who sent these killers. The old man on the floor doesn't have much time. This is something that the kids should not know."
Gregory Alekseevich inserted a fresh magazine into his assault rifle and handed it to a short, Mandarin woman. She was Belz's wife.
"Loaded, full automatic fire, just aim and pull the trigger."
Gregory withdrew the folding utility knife on his belt.
However, the boss's wife held back the young man.
"He would not wish this on you. Timofey thought of you as his younger brother."
Gregory examined his boss's wife. Her eyes were red from weeping.
"They killed Belz. They killed everyone who stood in their way. I must know who they are so we can take the battle to them. I promise you that soon they don't kill again. We must find the head and sever it."
Fifteen minutes later, the young man had a name. The living was made into meat...the type that Hannibal Lector was most fond of.
Looking down at the mutilated corpse, Gregory Alekseevich knew why Timofey Posibeev and the doctor had those eyes. He knew that he was now marked. He had cut out his own soul along with the man's flesh. Gregory knew that now he had the eyes of the damned.
An eternity in Hell was a price that he was willing to pay to save the only family he had left.
Will Du listened as a team of Global Justice Senior Agents were briefing him on Operation Flypaper. Iosif Ilyavich was perhaps one of the most experienced hit men employed by the Russian mob. Unlike the Italian mob, there was no commission...no boss of bosses to coordinate the activities of individual Russian mob clans. So they spend more time fighting one another than the authorities.
Iosif Ilyavich was of the old generation...a dying generation who was trained up under the hammer and sickle and blooded in the Soviet Union's last war in Afghanistan. He normally would not rate the attention of Global Justice. However, five years ago, Iosef was involved in the deaths of two undercover Global Justice case officer and three dozen locally recruited agents. Will Du and Global Justice had long memories.
Worse for Iosif, Will Du was not gentle like Betty Director. He did not believe in non-lethal law enforcement. Dead was just almost as good as alive.
Edward Hertzberg headed perhaps the best PMC that GJ could contract. Unlike Blackwater or Executive Outcomes...Hertzberg Consultants always delivered the goods and yet managed to stay off the radar. Unlike the other Private Military Companies...there will be no Wall Street Journal/Time Magazine articles about Hertzberg Consultants.
Iosef would be there dead or alive in seventy hours...or Hertzberg and his crew would be dead...deniably dead in the Siberian wilderness.
The waiting was what made Will ill tempered. His underlings were repeating the same set of nothing that he heard all night. Even with Justine Payne acting as a buffer, there were some calls that could not be ignored. A big donor from Wall Street wanted to speak to him and he had to be chipper.
"May I suggest some eggs and bangers?" the voice on the other end replied.
"Sound good, but the doctors are sticking me on the healthy routine. What is it that you require?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Our friend in Japan will be outed as the MID-Killer. One of my subsidiary labs was contracted to do a DNA test. The sample comes from the Colorado State Bureau of Investigation and was couriered over by the FBI. They filmed as my tech made the match. It will be on the news tomorrow morning at nine AM eastern standard time."
Will thought for a second.
"You are clean according to the boss...Bonnie Rockwaller is dead. Should you get in trouble...You were cooperating in a GJ investigation into Rockwaller's criminal undertakings. That is why you kept her on the payroll at Global Justice's request. My associates will courier some backdated documents with all the seals and signatures. With her son committing suicide...there will be no one left to contradict our story. Close down your illegal operations for six months until this blows over."
That would not change Drakken's fate...not with Robert still alive. Insult the boy's mother and the boy will strike back. Adding in the son of the man he killed and the daughter of a sidekick he betrayed each seeking their vengeance, a liability will be zeroed out in due time.
There was a silence, "Yes sir."
The voice on the other end was very unhappy. However, Will did not fear betrayal. All Drakken knew was that he was just a voice on the voice that relayed messages from someone called the Coordinator.
"Kenji will be informed. Any other news?"
"I will keep on schedule. Do the civic duty routine. Ten million to Global Justice. Ten more to the Red Cross. Five to local schools. Plus an additional fifteen to our pals in Washington."
Will Du smiled like a certain cat in Alice in Wonderland. He got Drakken to fund a good chuck of the organization that once hunted him down.
Drakken had learned how to take over the world. There were a surplus of politicians willing to whore themselves out for donations. It was disappointing just how cheap these politicians were willing to sell themselves out for.
Will Du sat back and plotted his next move. He was the newest of the Omegas. Only one more step and he could become the Light Bringer.
He looked at the face of his driver. Justine Payne was the daughter of the Light Bringer and the mother of his child. In a royal family, he would be a prince consort. In the Project...he did not know how things would play out.
With the exception of his own father, he had never seen the face of another Omega. When the omegas met to initiate him, everyone else was wearing masks and flowing robes that concealed most clues as to one's identity including sex. All that he knew was that there were only twelve Omegas of which he was now one. The only time he would see an omega's face was when a new one would be initiated into the mystery of faith.
Will Du wanted...needed the Light Bringer's throne. It was his birthright. His father would have been the next Light Bringer if only the old man did not have a heart attack. Will Du wanted the project to follow his path. The others were too cautious. Their plans would take centuries. He wanted to see the Project brought to past in his life.
Will looked upon the young lady that was his key to ascending the throne.
Justine Payne was perhaps the only fitting consort for one such as him. Like him, she had superior genetics. She was ruthless, cunning, everything that one could wish in a queen. Everything save for loyalty. In that Justine's only loyalty was their child.
When he let he know that he was willing to continue their prior relationship, she made it abundantly clear that the affair in the past was a one time thing done for the good of the Project. The Project had their cross and she did not want to pursue a further laison.
However, Will wanted her. Will wanted his seed to merge with her. He wanted to take her and take her. Only one other lady gave him the same feeling.
Kim Possible.
Despite the scars from the ambush that killed Ron Stoppable, Kim Possible was still a hottie as the expression went. Despite a child, she had a figure that aroused even gay men.
Will Du imagined taking Kim Possible and Justine Payne. He imagined their bellies swelling with his children. He imagined that one day...all the children fathered within the Project will be of his blood. He would ensure that his line will run the Project.
Will Du had eleven omegas and a Light Bringer to topple. This summer, they will meet. This summer, he will take over.
Will Du thought through what he needed. This summer...this summer things will be quite interesting. This summer, he will arrange for a test unlike any other. Ronald Possible, Violetta Lee, Jen Possible, Robert Rockwaller, and even his own daughter Constance Payne will be tested in their own little slice of hell.
Ronnie Possible was hyperventilating.
"Vee, I need you. I think we killed him."
Fuck, fuck, fuck! There is no way we can hid a body.
Vee took a deep breath.
She reached over and felt for a pulse.
Vee exhaled.
"Weak, but he's alive. We keep with the plan. Grab the tie downs and tie him to a tree. I will take care of the van."
The UPS driver was heavier than expected.
"Small even for a Jap...can't weigh more than a buck twenty."
Ronnie had to complain.
"No crap. Why do you think it takes two of us to move his ass? Also don't say Jap...only Japs can use Jap."
"But..."
"I am a halfa-Jap as you are halfa-heb. Now lets get ramen boy tied up and go.
Thankfully he backed off the second she went into the sarcasm zone.
"Go back to the van. I want to talk with our pal. He is waking up and I don't want him to know we are who we are."
Ronnie ran back to the van as Violetta extended a stolen pistol into the waking man's face.
Vee made sure she was wearing the mirror shades.
"o-name desu ka?"
What is your name?
"Kasukabe Tatsuto desu." he replied.
I am Tatsuto Kasukabe.
"Watakushi-tachi wa Anarchy Angels desu. Kore wa pistoru no SIG Sauer desu, ka?"
We are the Anarchy Angels. This is a SIG Sauer pistol, yes?
There was silence. Then the sound of excretion was heard in the forest.
No translation was needed. Pissing and crapping in one's underwear was universal in any language.
"Two days, Kasukabe-san. Or else"
She pointed the pistol at his crotch.
Two days or else, Kasukabe.
Vee deliberately gave the man what she termed the Japanese Hello City bimbo laugh. She waved bye-bye like a little girl.
Vee walked away from the tied up UPS driver careful to walk in baby steps like any nihonjin (Japanese) girl would be taught. The only sound was that of the birds, the traffic on the road, and the sound of a grown man crying.
I should feel bad. I terrified the poor man. However, I feel...aroused. No not aroused...but excited.
Vee started to feel alive again.
Vee was going to play Grand Theft Auto Japan.
The Japanese expression for 'let them talk', iwaseru, is the same expression for 'make them talk.'
Keibuho (Assistant Inspector) Miyazawa Toshishiro of the Nara Prefectural Police spend fifteen years in the Japanese police force with the last seven as a detective in Nara City. As such, he had perform, iwaseru-do, the art of making suspects confess by physical and psychological methods. Unlike America, the cops in Japan answered to no one.
Nara is a conservative city.
Always was...as far as Keibuho Miyazawa was concerned always will be. This was the last place where fad reached in Japan and the last place where fads will fade. Unlike Osaka and Tokyo, Nara was relaxed, slow.
However, that was Nara yesterday.
Today, Assistant Police Inspector Miyazawa Toshishiro was in a quandary.
At two in the morning, traffic police found a burning UPS van. The local fire company put out the first and their investigator called him over.
"This one was deliberately set. I called UPS and they said the driver had not come back."
Because of the Japanese tradition of building their houses with wood and paper, arson was more treated more seriously than in the West. In the old days, even a fire that accidentally got out of control meant death. Today, it was life in prison, but no one could ever call a Japanese prison a country club.
Toshishiro called upon the locals to scour the woods were they found the driver wearing only his underwear, sobbing hysterically, tied up to a tree.
It took time, but Toshishiro found out that the driver awoke to a girl with a gun to the driver's face claiming to be an Anarchy Angel.
The mention of a gun...that upped the ante. In Japan, only the police had firearms. Even the rank and file of the Yakuza did not have guns. Only a few licensed body guards and a few foreigners with diplomatic papers had guns on Japanese soil. Now his sleepy office was being overrun by the Japanese National Police Special Operation Unit.
The members of the local criminal element were being round up, vigorously interrogated, but not a one knew about the Anarchy Angels.
Suddenly, there was a rash of pick pocketing, burglaries at local stores, and two assaults. Also someone started graffiti bombing the town.
Two A's with wings and a horned halo started appearing all over the sleepy town.
The worse attack on was on the back of a local police office. They actually did it in the back of a working police station...the shame was unbearable. Unlike the United States with video cameras everywhere, most Japanese businesses did not have surveillance cameras except in the bathrooms and dressing rooms for the satisfaction of the perverts working as security guards.
Now the local electronics store was doing business like the end of the world was coming.
The Anarchy Angels were deliberately challenging the police. The question was who were the Anarchy Angels and how did they get guns.
Ronald Stoppable Possible didn't know whether to run or stay.
Since he was five, he had been getting in and out of trouble with his best friend, now girl friend, Violetta Lee.
In nine years, he learned that Vee was wound more tightly than any coiled spring. He tried to figure her out sometimes, but every time he did, she surprised him.
However, he knew when Vee was acting kittenish; her mind was on some uber-scam. Unlike the other kids, Vee seemingly lived to be wild...she was in her way untamable. It was this that made things very exciting.
Ronnie was much like his father. He was a slacker. He was not fond of physical exercise save for that incurred in the bedroom. He had his own assortment of phobias. Bugs, monkeys, public speaking...While he was not as crippled as his father...he still was afraid of danger.
However, Vee was danger personified. She was the dark woman of lore. She was a siren that lured him into acts and situations that Ronnie could not even imagine doing in the virtual world. However, her ability...her intimate knowledge of all his weaknesses meant that he would follow into hell just after a dip in a tub of napalm.
"Vee, if we keep this up, they will know we are here."
Vee smiled and shook his head. And then she palm slapped him in the forehead, giving him the universal sign for duh...are you that slow?
"Ronnie, we want to know that we are here. We are lost. We are like deer on the first day of hunting. All I know is that we are in Nara. The Yaks know that we are here and will be looking for us. Don't you think they will check the trains?"
Ronald Possible examined his girlfriend's logic.
The problem was her logic when it came to scamming was unbeatable as four of a kind on the poker table. His problem was that more than one, they had been burned and suffered for it back home.
"Then why are we going to pick pocket here?"
"Elementary, my dear Watson. What do cops do when they witness a crime?"
Ronnie gulped, "Arrest us!"
"Wroong, nice try. Honey, they try to arrest us with the emphasis on the word try. We bounce them and claim their gear. The local cops will know that two ringers are in town. Yori-sensi will know that we are in town and that we will keep bouncing around until they come for us. Anarchy Angels will have a blast before vanishing back into the darkness from where they came!"
The only word going through Ronnie's mind was meep. Not a very impressive word. Even his father had a better phase, booyah than his son. However meep did have it's uses.
"Meep, crap, I don't want to go to jail."
"I promise you. If you go to jail, I will bust you out. How many times have I busted you out before?"
"I have never been to jail. I mean other than the time I got caught with those toilet bombs."
"Remember, we were busted for playing doctor and we had to play that mind game on your mom. Don't worry...I promise...no jail time for Ronnie unless we are together in the same cell. Besides, sensei told me you are the one with the monkey power. Don't worry you are a natural...just don't think too much."
"But..."
Vee kissed him and Ronnie started thinking with his other head.
"Okay, we bounce with the cops, but only once."
She slipped him the tongue, "I promise to be a very naughty kitty!"
"Twice."
Meep...I am going to spend the rest of my life dodging queers in the holding pens.
Minami Jiro had spent all his adult life in law enforcement.
After an initial three year stint in a koban (police box), Jiro had work in the Kidotai, the Japanese riot police, for half a decade. He then spent ten years with the special operations unit until a training accident rendered him incapable of looting and shooting with his comrade. Instead of retiring, they sent him to a sleepy little town so that he could do his time and collect his pension.
He had thrived in his position. He had pass his promotion examinations and was simply waiting for a slot to open up in the Criminal Investigation Bureau. Normally he would be in the koban processing paperwork...but today he was training a rookie fresh out of the local police academy.
Koga Yukio was the youngest son of a respected, retired inspector. However, despite the blood, Yukio had a lot to learn on criminal methods. He was talented, but he did not yet manage to acquire the little things that Minami had picked up in sixteen years on the job.
"Where are we heading to?"
" Nara Atrium. There is a good 100-yen store and the wife wants me to pick her up some stuff."
"Shopping on company time?"
The police sergeant shook his head, "No, it's lunch time. Also, I have to speak to two of my rats. This Anarchy Angel situation need to be fixed fast. Otherwise, the criminal element will become bolder."
The young man's face lit up.
"Buddha, please save us from those unfortunates who desire adventure. Have you ever looked at the wrong end of pistol before? If you only shit your pants...you definitely have what it takes to be a samurai. I have seen grown men whimper like a little girl. If you spot one...call it in. Let the special operations unit earn their paychecks."
"But cops in America..."
"They die every year. Remember Team Possible?"
"No."
"Before your time. They were the ultimate kick ass team. They had more action than a lone videoke girl during the annual sales convention. But in the end, fate caught up with them. The boy...he became a cop in America that hunted down only escaped convicts. He and his unit were transporting one that put a twenty million dollar reward to anyone who helped him escape. The unit was betrayed and the boy was killed. They were better armed than any of us ever will be and they got slaughtered. Just because you have a gun doesn't mean someone can't hurt you."
Minami Jiro saw an all too familiar movement out of the corner of his eye.
"Did you notice something, Yukio?"
"No."
"Watch the female in the brown delivery outfit."
Two seconds later, the cops witnessed the young lady's hand dart and retrieve another wallet from an unsuspecting mark.
"Shit...another pickpocket."
"Watch the language. We are supposed to be professionals after all. I am going to arrest her. I want you to keep an eye out for trouble. Some of these pickpockets work in teams."
The young lady lifted two more wallets by the time that Jiro was in position. He reached forwards, about to grab the young lady by the arm. She just twisted and he missed. Her other arm swung around and he got a back hand across the face.
"Kore wa keikan ja arimasen! (This guy is not a cop) Gokanma desu ne! (This guy is a rape devil)."
The young lady was screaming that he was a rapist as she sprinted away from him.
Fortunately the locals did not interfere as he chased her. They saw his gun and immediately backed off.
I am going to make this bitch yap when I catch her!
Suddenly, there was the sound of a scuffle behind him.
"Get her, I will take care of this one!" yelled the rookie.
If the young lady did not call him a rapist and raise his ire...he might have backed off and helped his partner. However, the young pup told him that he had the situation under control.
The young girl disappeared around the corner.
The old police sergeant raced behind her.
He raced into a ridge hand.
If her aim was a little higher, she could have broken his throat with a single blow. It was bad enough that she got him on his back. He was gasping for air. The little minx turned around and raced passed him. She even had the audacity to blow him a kiss.
Minami rolled unto his knees, caught his breath, and got back up on his feet. He ran back to his partner to see the young girl thrown a spinning crescent kick to the rookie's jaw. The loud crack told Minami that the rookie would not be eating solid food anytime in the near future.
"Police!"
The girl and her partner ran in opposite directions.
The partner would have to be dealt with at a later time. The girl was the one who nearly killed him and broke his partner's jaw.
This time he knew better than to under estimate this girl. She obviously was a martial arts master. Stunning a fourth degree black belt in judo and a three degree in Ishin Ryu karate, plus knocking out a second degree in shotokan karate.
Minami Jiro had spared with many criminals and Japanese martial arts masters, but the young girl's movements were more circular and fluid than the traditional Japanese styles that he had fought in the past.
Jiro threw a jab followed by a low kick. They both missed.
Jiro was in a traditional stance. The young lady was in what appeared to be a horse stance.
"You are under..."
His experienced eyes followed the quick movement of her jab. However, byu the time he reacted, she got in two quick slaps to the face, two fists to the gut, and a leg swipe.
Jiro found himself falling to the earth. He kicked out to get her back so he could roll back and get on the offensive.
The problem was that by the time he was back on his feet the girl disappeared.
"Shit!"
"Baka!" a female voice replied as someone stomp kicked him perfectly on the tail bone.
He fell forward and tucked himself into a forward roll.
Jiro lashed out, however she seemed always just outside of reach. The image of his attack reflected in her mirrored sunglasses mocked him.
"Watakushi wa hayai desu. Anata wa hayai ja arimasen. Ojiisan wa kame desu ne."
I'm fast. You're not. Grandpa's a turtle!
Jiro intensified his attack with the same results.
Suddenly, her foot snaked out and whapped him on the side of the knee cap. Jiro Minami fell.
He was unable to stand. The last time he felt this helpless was went his grandfather whipped him for stilling his grandmother's pickled plums. That was over thirty years ago.
"Ojiisan no hiza wa togiretogire desu."
Grandpa's knee is broken.
Never before has Police Sergeant Jiro Minami hated youth so much.
"Suimasen. Watakushi wa ojiisan no pisotoru kakarimasu."
Sorry I'm taking your pistol.
She then giggled like one of those empty-headed bimbos with the Hello Kitty purses.
She kicked him in the temple and his world went black, but not before he knew what shame truly was.
He could not move.
He was naked under the covers as was his normal sleeping habit since he was five. Thirteen years later, that habit would land him in trouble.
He was asleep. The stress of losing his mother and walking away from the world he knew had keep him awake for days on end. However, in the end the body's need for sleep had won over his anxiety.
It was spring in Montana. The locals were wearing their summer wear. Robert grew up in southern California where one had to drive up to the mountains to see snow. It was bad during the day, but at night...he was huddled up under a mountain of blankets.
He closed his eyes and curled up into a ball hugging a pillow. Tomorrow would be another early day in what would become a string of early days for the rest of his life. Working on a ranch, he already figured out that sleeping in late would be a luxury forever denied him.
Robert wondered what would happen to him. He had a job as a mechanic. It was perhaps the only job suited for the new city boy. His teenage years, hanging out on the drag racing scene had taught him a lot about engines. Toss in a year and a half of mechanical engineering at USC, he was a die hard motor head. It was perhaps the best way for him to make his keep. There were always jobs for good motor heads. They enrolled him in the local SASE mechanics course. However, they had him working on the big diesels and the small gasoline powered generators.
The challenges of keeping fifty motor vehicles running was demanding and keep him from brooding during the day.
However, it was the night time that Robert hated the most. At night, there was too much time to think as he lay huddled under a mountain of blankets.
Slowly the urge to sleep would overtake the terrier shaking scurrying rats breeding inside his skull.
The pillow was firm like the form of his ex-girl friend, Ana Ramirez. Despite the Latino last name and body, Ana was about as white inside as Howdy Doody on the outside. She did not speak a word of Spanish and when her cousins or parents would speak in Spanish she would complain about that being so Mexican. Ana's old man was the third generation in the construction business. He started as a roofer, but when the sister got into real estate, Ana's old man went into building subdivisions and strip malls.
Ana acted like a good little Catholic girl...a good little nymphomania catholic school girl. She had taken his virginity on morning so that she could up her cousin who just got a French kiss. Ana could have been a porn goddess. She did not need acting classes. Despite her upper class breeding, Ana was a natural slut. After prom, he caught her with one of her father's employees.
Sharing was not one of personality traits and so he dropped her. However, he could not dropped the memories of what she did to him and what he did to her.
He remembered the time they played the spoon game. They sleep together, not moving, just seeing how many times they could get off by just the manipulation of her pelvic muscles. Sometimes, the dreams would be intense and he would wake up with the evidence of nocturnal emissions all over his bed.
Robert, calm yourself. You don't need trouble now. Don't paw the local girls. You can't afford to get into bar fights over some floozy slut who is banging half the county.
Robert hugged the pillow tighter. The only action he was going to get for a while would be in his dreams. It would have to do until he found something willing in town that would not get him into too much trouble.
Ana and Robert were watching a porno that she had stolen from her older brother's collection. As far as Ana's housemaid knew, the pair were simply studying for an upcoming biology examination.
Human reproduction and entertainment.
"Is she pretty?"
"Of course...otherwise they would have paid someone else."
"Who's prettier?"
An instinctive sense of self preservation clicked in.
"You"
Ana glowed. Robert prayed that she did not glow like that in from of her parents.
"How much are you willing to have me star in your film?"
"I don't know. First you have to audition."
Ana zipped down his zipper.
"I see you already got the staring male role."
Ana bent over and kissed his mushroom tip.
Despite the occasional grazing of her teeth, Robert knew that this would forever mark one of the high points in his life. Everyone talked about blow jobs, but no one he knew had one. He wanted to tell Ana that she got the job, but something told him to play the role of the difficult casting agent.
"Girl, lots of other girls suck better than you. Ms. Rhea Bonnet, your high school French teacher, took five men. All you shone me was your mouth. You have ass, cunt, and hands...use them."
He kept his tone as serious as a pimp to a girl who did not bring in the money.
"Ms. Bennet is a lesbo slut."
"We love lesbo sluts. They have the best tongues and work for nearly nothing." He kidded.
"Well, I am a not straight, not bi. I am tri-sexual. That means I will try everything, preferably more than once."
Robert remembered smiling, "That's the attitude, but I have to try your other assets. See if they can measure up and endure all the hard pounding. Roll over. Let's see if you have the booty that will make the latest Latin sensation weep."
He remembered feeling like the luckiest porn star in the world.
Robert knew he would have to change the bed sheets the following morning, but it was worth the memory.
Robert this is not a dream.
Robert woke up to see a small blond thing set on his pile driver.
"Shush...honey daddy has a loaded shotgun. Now promise me that you won't stop until I have your love child."
Robert wanted to run. This was just a child. He can not afford to be calling up batters from the minors. He was not his sick father who fucked his own daughters.
However, his body was squirting in more seed into the small blond girl.
"Honey, promise me when our daughter is ready, you will give her a daddy's baby of her own."
His body was pounding. The thought of knocking up his own kids was causing him to knock up his boss's daughter.
Robert screamed as he impregnated the fourteen year old. As his thing came out, her belly was already swelling.
"You have given me twin girls honey."
Robert ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He saw the face of his grandfather/father.
"Robert, no matter what, you are still a Rockwaller. You want her. She wants you. She knows that you will give her what she wants. Follow your destiny. It's in your genes. She will only be the first of your harem"
Robert screamed, "I'm not you. I will never be like you."
The voice laughed, "You are so much like me that we could use each other for mirrors."
"Robert, it's safe to leave the house now. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen. Beefsteak, cheese omelets, and pancakes..."
Robert opened his eyes to see Mrs. Joss Possible Weiss standing at the doorway.
"Yes, ma'am. Promise me no more chopper rides."
"Don't ma'am me. Besides, you hired on as a mechanic's apprentice. To fix the choppers you have to know how to test fly them. I told Jen to take it easy. As for the other thing...Jen is only fourteen and don't know much about boys. She is just doing what all girls do at that age. Just ignore it and she will eventually get the message."
Robert Daniel Xavier, formerly Robert Rodger Rockwaller, hoped that Jennifer Possible Weiss would find another boy to torment soon. Mrs. Weiss turned around, left, and closed the door behind her.
Robert crawled out of bed, summoned the image of two fat senior citizen lesbos in action to get his thing down. He crawled into the bath room and took a mighty cold shower.
Robert was afraid to look into the mirror.
Back in high school, he liked the younger ones...the ninth graders. He did not know why. They did not have the racks that the 12th graders had, but now he knew that somewhere deep inside is the disease that seemingly infected all the Rockwaller males.
Robert entered the cold shower, closed his eyes, and prayed to whatever deity would listen. He did not want to be messed up like the rest of the Rockwallers. He prayed that the boss would have busy doing something today so he did not have to see Jennifer Weiss and put up with her incessant flirting.
Robert wondered just how many more surprises fate had in store for him. Just how many more demons lay inside his mind waiting to torture him.
Assistant Inspector Toshishiro had his first break.
There was a call from the Nara Atrium, an indoor outdoor shopping center.
When Toshishiro arrived, there were two unconscious police officers missing their equipment belts. Whoever did this had two more firearms.
When Toshishiro walked up to the scene, he was shocked. One of the officers was a rookie, Koga Yukio, fresh out of the police academy. The other was Minami Jiro, the local police unarmed combat instructor and Yukio's training officer.
Minami Jiro was ashamed of being defeated, but he was a professional who dispassionately related the events of his shame.
At 12:34, he spotted a pickpocket in action. When he tried to give chase, his partner was ambushed by a one hundred seventy centimeter, sixty five kilogram male. When he tried to help his partner, he was attacked by one hundred fifty centimeter female wearing a UPS uniform and mirror shades.
"It was like fighting the mist. No matter what I did, I could not get a hold of her and everything I did missed her by millimeters. Suddenly she struck me in the knee and I fell to the earth, dazed. She then took my gun and whispered, sumimasen, and then she giggled."
The dazed police officer shook his head.
"She kicked Koga in the head. Perfect jaw shot...I doubt he will be able to speak until the doctors wire his jaw up. It was like the crooks brought in a ringer to beat the snot out of us. It was an ambush. The way she moved...I should have not scene her lift the wallet. It was as if she was deliberately clumsy so we would see her so we would fall into her trap."
Toshishiro wondered who upped the ante. There was an agreed upon code between the local criminals and the cops. There was an unspoken rule about not assaulting cops and definitely no ambushing cops.
However the Yakuza of late were breaking all the rules and traditional agreements.
"Any tattoos?"
"No and they had all ten fingers. I did not get much more. They were too fast...too good to be Yakuza scum."
Minami would be in the hospital for months while the doctors worked on his knee. Two police officers, one an experience hand to hand combat instructor and the other a former competitive marital artist, were taken out by two unknown criminals.
If this was the movies, Toshishiro would began to believe in some secret ninja cult.
However, even with the homeland of the ninja, Iga just a few hours away, he doubted that any remaining ninjas would target two honest beat cops. If someone had enough money to hire some ninja, they did not have to waste the services on two beat cops. All they had to do was intimidate an industrialist that had the right politician in his pocket. More than once the politicians had shut down very interesting investigations once there were certain parties involved.
Looking at the nearby wall, he saw a horned halo and winged-twin A's painted on the wall. The Anarchy Angels were here.
There were several news crews talking about the Anarchy Angels.
Great, I am going to get a bunch of copy cats.
Toshishiro vowed that he would get those menaces even if it cost him his career. No one bounces two cops in his prefecture. No one!
The news of two cops being assaulted and robbed simultaneously reached two competing interests.
Yori Yamaguchi, formerly Yori Suzuki, was checking the news for any mention for trouble.
Hirotaka Yamanouchi was also doing the same.
Both were shocked by the level of violence displayed by a pair of fourteen year olds.
Both sent a contingent of underlings to bring the girl and her boyfriend.
The question was which one of three competing interests would get to the duo first. The Yakuza, the local police, and the Yamanouchi ninja clan all wanted the same thing. Hirotaka and Yori both knew that things were going to be bloody as all three factions bump into one another.
