A/N: Okay, chapter time. Not much to say about the chapter really. It's been cold as hell where I'm at, and the snow mas basically been falling from the sky nonstop burying everything and making the roads a nightmare. Not because the roads are bad, but because the people driving on them come from California where they have literally no idea what to do. Ugh, enough of that, though, there's a chapter to write!

Samuel watches the beautiful horizon gently passing by as the deck of the small, hauling vessel bobs gently across the ocean waves. Or so he wishes. In actuality he can only tell the boat is moving because the fucking Captain barrels through wave after wave at break neck speeds like a lunatic! He'd be inside the actual passenger quarters if they didn't smell like rust and mold, so he finds himself holding on the railing up on the top deck, or whatever the fuck it's called, because ocean water somehow smells nicer than the inside of the ship!

He wanted to fly, but seeing how last time good ol' Zeus hit their plane with a baby blast of lightning both him and Samson agreed it's better to take a boat. Poseidon is a cool dude and doesn't care if those of other gods travel across his domain. He'c just cool like that! Unfortunately Samson's little Gal' Boat decided to run drugs for a crimelord somewhere in Europe, so that leaves them basically unusable until they come back or get chased out by some European navy. And because he's on a boat ran by a mortal, Samson's girl's aren't there to use their powers to make the ride smooth and somewhat comfortable

Fuckin A, dude.

Instead they had to hitch a ride with a local small time cargo captain that gets paid extra for arriving early with shipments, and seeing how he plans on getting there in less than a week and the distance is over five-thousand and three hundred miles, they're making distance fast. Only a few days longer than the world goddamn record for the same journey!

So yeah, the ride is as about as nice as you think it would be.

The boat rocks up on a high wave and Samuel braces and grips the railing with all of his strength as the boat basically skateboards up and drops down back onto the water with a heavy crash. Samuel feels the shock go right up his legs and into his special area. He wheezes like an old man as he barely holds himself upright on the railing, cursing a storm as Samson slowly inches his way across the deck to his side.

"Damn," He says, gripping onto the railing next to Samuel, "This dude isn't joking around, is he?"

Samuel only heaves in response.

He points to a faint shape far out in the horizon, "Look, I can see the coast. We should be there in a few hours now."

"Thank the Gods!" Samuel practically shouts, finally catching his breath, "I can't wait to get off this stupid boat!"

The pain finally passes and Samuel inhales deeply, catching his breath fully and standing to his full height. He looks out at the mainland, watching it slowly growing larger as the distance shortens. It's an odd moment of peace despite everything, but peace isn't something destined for him. They've still got a job to do.

"What's our plan for this 'factory' Perry dug information up on?"

"We're looking for Hashima island," Samson explains, "It's an abandoned coal mining facility off the coast of Nagasaki. Perry got us a location and that's about it. Everything else about the actual facility itself is entirely hearsay. Interrogated monsters say it exists, and have been for years. It's unregistered in any private records, godly and mortal alike. They must be using a tremendously powerful amount of Mist to hide it since the island is well traveled for tourism. Smart. They can easily bring their men in and out with the crowds, and since the waters are not patrolled bringing supplies in for metal working is simple. I don't doubt they're reusing many of the equipment that was abandoned."

Samuel pulls his face into a grimace at the thought of the group running the facility. Whomever they are are smart, craft, resourceful and most dangerously of all well in place. Basically an entire island as a fortress with who knows how many weapons and defenses in place, not including staff and security that surely make up a huge population of defense on the island.

"I don't like this. This whole thing feels like a cheap horror movie."

"Well, you're not wrong," Samson agrees, "The island reportedly had up to a thousand deaths, and from what I've gathered is also haunted. I'm sure our friends making illegal metals are the culprits, but this is an island out of our parents' territory. Who's to say it isn't actually haunted?"

"Hmm. We'll get a hotel when we land, a nice one. They have good security. After that, well, I think it's important to understand our surroundings, don't you? To, uh, understand the culture of our enemies land."

Samson smirks, "I mean, we're in Japan after all. Why not enjoy it while we can?"

Samuel whistles in appreciation as they walk down a crowded tourist street of some sort. Stalls and shops are set up all across the way. Knick knacks, iconic and unknown treats, sweets and street food cover every inch it seems. Buildings are decorated with traditional and stereotypical Japanese iconography of all kinds. Just walking down the streets is a blast, reminding Samuel of the popular areas around Boston and New York. Lots of flashy, pretty colors to entice you to walk up and buy something. Standard human manipulation, predictable even.

And Samuel is a sucker for it.

"Do you need all of that... junk?" Samson asks, watching with his hands in his pockets as Samuel buys a golden Lucky Cat and stuffs it in the large duffle bag he bought from the first store along the Tourist walk. "You can buy all of that stuff from Amazon."

"Mind you're own business," He yells back, "It's the principle that counts! Besides, shouldn't you be all about this stuff? Isn't this your dad's culture?"

Samson's face scrunches like he just licked a lemon, "Sort of? My father absolutely hated anything Japanese. The only thing he kept from Japan was his family's armor and sword, and even then we used the armor as a coat rack. At least I have the sword still. Almost got it battle ready again, too. He didn't even speak Japanese to me, I had to learn it on my own after he died! Listen, I hope you don't mind the distraction, but I was hoping to head over to the Registry and see if I can find anything on my father."

He looks away, a brief flash of something akin to hurt shining in his eyes, "I know next to nothing about my father before he moved to America other than that he came here before they entered the War in the Pacific. I don't know... I'd just like to see if I can figure out why it is he hated Japan so much."

Samuel glaces at him in the corner of his eye for a second before continuing forward on along the walk, "Hey, if it's a distraction I don't care. I'm gonna be busy hanging around here, but you can fuck off and do whatever you want for all I care. Just make sure you're back in the hotel by tomorrow morning, we've gotta scout out the island while it's bust so we can blend in."

He continues walking away while a thought suddenly appears in Samson's mind.

"Hey, you don't happen to speak Japanese, do you?"

Instantly Samuel stops, the Son of Eris realizing that, in fact, he does not.

A few bus, train and taxi trips later Samuel and Samson managed to find the registry records office. Since Samson's father died years ago and the old government during his time was reorganized, records from that time were made completely public even for former government workers. All Samson had to do was give his name and relation, and in due time the counter woman left and returned with documents detailing everything that was filed away.

The woman hands Samson a stack of papers and he thanks her and sits down at a table nearby, Samuel across from him with a bored yet pissed off expression. He taps his fingers idly on the table while Samson silently reads. Every so often he hears Samson make noises ranging from a surprised 'oh?' to an angry 'bastards!'. Finally, curiosity and anger mix and he bursts.

"Fucking hell already! Just tell me what the fuck is going on already!"

The woman manning the records counter gives Samuel a pointed look. He holds his hand up, hoping she takes it for a universal apology and settles down. Samson raises an eyebrow at him, surprised by his compliance.

"Wow, never thought I'd see the day. Usually you respond with yelling or a middle finger or something. What's different now?"

"We're not in America," He says casually, "Being loud is disrespectful around here."

Samson responds with raising his other eyebrow. Samuel sneaks him a middle finger, "Just tell me what you found out!"

The Son of Athena shuffles the papers back in order and clears his throat before continuing, "Well, not a whole lot, but everything that matters, really. I always knew my father was an engineer and did work for the American government when he left Japan which was why he wasn't interned at a camp when the war started. According to the records, he designed engines for military craft before the start of the war. However, he hated the Japanese emperor at the time and refused to make more war machines that was being used against China and other countries in the Thirties."

Samson pauses, flipping the page and preparing himself for the next part of his father's summarized story, "He... had a wife who was imprisoned by officials to try and force him to keep working, but she died of disease not long after. The records state that the facilities used to keep prisoners were abhorrent, and the warden refused medical attention to his inmates. After she died, my father took or destroyed his work and fled with the help of a Russian spy named Richard Sorge who set him up with a transport to America. There he gave his designs to the government and worked with them to help develop new fighter planes including the American Mustang. After the war he was awarded an earnings and quietly retired to a small town. From there... well I know what happens from then."

He closes the folder and sets it down on the table. He folds his hands under his chin and looks down on the enclosed documents, his eyes studious as he leers down on them like they're the scum of the Earth.

Quietly, he continues, his voice calm, unwavering, yet empty. Samson isn't sure how to describe his emotions. He's not angry, nor is he sad. Yet... he feels hollow still, even if he got exactly what he wanted. He learned about his father's history in Japan, but it just isn't right. Somehow he feels more incomplete now than ever. He sighs, picks up the folder and walks over to the counter and returns it back to the lady. He thanks her and heads outside. Samuel follows, watching him with a knowing gaze.

"Doesn't feel so good, does it? I went through the same thing when Mom talked to me about my Dad, and then it got worse when I actually met him in a dream one time. Not sure how she pulled it off but Mom got me to dream in Elysium somehow and I got to talk with my pops for the first time in years. I tell you what, the more I look into it and hear about him the worse that feeling gets. No clue if it'll pass in time, but I say just leave things where they are. The past is in the past, and I know my pops doesn't want me stuck somewhere for long. So why bother with that junk? C'mon, let's get out of here. We've still got a job to do."

Samson nods, quickly wiping faint dampness from his eye and standing tall with his head held high and a new focus in his mind.

"Yeah, let's go. This place sucks."