Rain, it was always the rain.
In her silent, dark apartment, Sinon sat. Her arms, dried with blood, rested at her sides along the couch cushions. The incessant patter of rain tapping at her window, the incandescent glow of the neon lights of the city upon the reinforced glass. The wet tapping, as if trying to get her attention, was fruitless. Her eyes lingered upon the items on her coffee table.
A worn cowboy hat, a faded leather notepad, darkened with blood, and the letter.
It still didn't feel real. Feeling, wasn't even a concept to her. Mind blank, only fragments echoed in her mind, ones she was and wasn't aware of. That virtual warmth had long since left her hand, the only remaining fragment of her friend. She had no memory of why she was wet, if she even cared. She couldn't recall why she was even home, but she could recall who wasn't, and who would never be again.
The envelope, the way it sat upon her table, something told her to look at it, to read it. A weak, pleading voice that was not her own. Her arm ached in protest as she reached out. Taking the blood dried envelope, she opened it, and pulled forth folded paper. That was like him.
Fingers slowly pushed the folded paper open, in some of the neatest handwriting she had seen in a while, was her name. And so, she began.
Sinon.
I've restarted this letter so many times, I can't count it. I should be talking with you, and maybe I will. But, forgive me, for I'm a coward. I am in so, so many ways that I can't face you when you learn the truth. Maybe you won't believe me. Maybe you will. I'm not sure what it is I'm more scared of at this point.
My name, is Daisuke Shimada. Outside this damn game, I was a detective in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, I was assigned to the Chiyoda ward. Was, being the key word. I was forced into early retirement for medical reasoning.
I've tried so many times to tell you, and I truly wish I had already. I keep thinking back to that night in the desert, it seems so long ago now. All of us sitting around that campfire, eating that crap food. You were all laughing and sharing who you were. For an old guy it was annoying, but I think I was just jealous. That is, until I heard your name.
Shino Asada. Hearing that, it hit me like hard. Everything I heard you talk about, it all just seemed to make sense. You even act like him, even if you don't know it. I'm sorry, Shino.
What I'm about to say is not as Dyne, but as Daisuke. And I'm saying it to you, Shino. Not Sinon.
I knew your father. He was my partner on the force and my best friend. And I failed him, and you.
Her eyes came alive some as she read the last few lines again, to make sure she hadn't read wrong. Dyne knew her father? But how could that be? The question rang in her mind. Her mind raced to make sense of it, going through her memories of the limited things her father left behind as keepsakes. He was a hard working Japanese man through and through, and hadn't been one to leave a diary or even take many photos. He had a couple of himself, her mother and herself as a baby, a picture of his graduating class from the academy and a handful of family photos. There was no way to know Dyne wasn't mistaken but in her heart, maybe even deeper than that it made sense. It was true. Gloved hands gripped the letter tighter.
Tokyo is a dangerous place, and it took your father from you, from us. We were detectives assigned to homicide. But a few years before his death, we were selected to join a joint task force to focus on the Honjo Family, one of the worst Yakuza families in Tokyo. Specialists from all the branches were there. The Honjo were responsible for one of the worst crime outbreaks in the metro area in decades. But it was impossible to pin down the leaders. Drugs, human trafficking, prostitution, extortion, murder. There was nothing they didn't touch, even the other families were trying to take them out for all the heat they were bringing down on the underworld.
Your father, he was a hero. I don't know how else to put it. Justice, virtue, and duty. He never wavered in his commitment to his city, to his family. He loved you, Shino. More than words could ever do justice. He was a quiet man, and I know you never got to know him. But everything he did, though quiet, was for you and your future. He told me once, that he would build a future you would live happily in, free of worry. He didn't smile, nor was he wistful. His words were as straight-forward as he was. That was the day I remember, the day the gap between us was so very wide and I was happy to be his partner.
But I didn't deserve it. Your father made case, after case. He had a preternatural sense, as if the Gods of justice led him. The jails were filling up with Honjo bastards, and we knew he would be the one to eventually walk their boss into booking. Until that day.
The car accident that took his life was no accident. It was murder, and it was plotted. The box truck that ran you off the road was driven by a Honjo trigger man. It was never made public, for fear it would embolden other criminals that a cop could be killed like that. I doubt even your mother knows.
I said I failed your father, Shino. Because we each made a promise. I had my own daughter and wife, and we swore if something ever happened to us, the one to live would watch over both our families. I shook his hand, and looked him in the eye when we made that promise.
An apology will never be enough to right the wrong I did. For my cowardice. You don't need to be told I never made good on that promise. This is why I couldn't tell you, and if I have, I'm certain you'll never speak to me again. But if you're still reading, I want to tell you why I became less than a man, a craven coward.
That day, your father was coming to see me and my family. To introduce me properly to your family, and mine yours. I have a daughter your same age, you see. And she hates me too, with good reason. When you were late, I wasn't worried. Your father had to have had good reason. Hours passed and I got worried, but I didn't go out. I had a drink already and was more worried about breaking a law than your father's safety, even after he didn't pick his phone up.
When I got the news from the officers arriving on scene, they called me first. I saw you and your mother lying in those hospital beds. And I was faced with my failure. I don't remember much after that for sometime. I did the worst thing. I should have gone in there, I should have kept my promise. I should have avenged him. I should have done something. Instead, I hid, I crawled into a bottle, after bottle, after bottle.
When I finally came out, my wife had left with my daughter to her parents. She was disgusted with who I was, and I have never once blamed her. And so, I never stopped. I was taken off the task force, and given desk duty. I was so lost in my own self-loathing and disgust I drank myself into a stupor everyday, and when my wife finally divorced me, I lost it all, and lived in a place I deserved. A hole for me to crawl into and where I wanted to die.
I never took responsibility, I never did what your father asked. I drank and smoked until I gave myself cancer. I'm sorry, Shino. I don't know if I could have done something to make your life easier, or maybe even helped after the terrible thing you were forced to do to protect your mother. But I have no right to even think I could be allowed to do so, or even suggest I could have.
You grew into a woman he would be so proud of. That much I know. I hope, if he can see you he's happy. And I hope, he never forgives me for breaking our oath. This cancer will kill me, Shino. I even feel it now, its slowing me down in game. I think it might even take me before the end of the game does. I started playing this game on my doctors orders, as a way to cope with things, but I believe it now to be fate. To show me, the gravity of my actions. I will protect you now, even though I have no right to.
Please, Shino. Survive this game. You don't deserve to die here.
Wet tears soaked into the digital paper, as her hands shook. "Dyne. . . I . . ." It didn't matter how many times she read it, trying to absorb the only remaining words of a man now gone. A man who was connected to her life in a way she could never have known, nor will she truly ever.
"I could never hate you," she hoped her words could reach him, wherever he was. So many things she wished now she could talk to him about. To tell him. But this would be all she could do.
The rain never stopped, not even for this somber day. Yet, it wasn't something she complained about, none of them did. When the news spread of Black Dog's waspish leader's death, the truth is only a few survivors knew his name. Even fewer came today, paying their respects and leaving until only three remained.
The graveyard which sat lonely in the ever shifting dunes that lapped against Glocken's scrapped hull was expansive, the final resting place of hundreds of virtual bodies that never decayed or disappeared. A grim reminder to all of the countless deaths that transpired not just before the BoB, but on that bloody day as well, regardless if the ones who made the graves could or could not recover remains. Those that did lie in the earth were preserved remains of soulless avatars, each marked by a steel grave marker, names written by laser, giving them an industrial and uniform look. Save for those, however, that could not afford the burial marker, or didn't care to, used a rough, salvaged, jagged piece of steel and carved into by knife, or not at all.
But no expenses had been spared, for the grave the three stood at today. Polished black steel, laser etched with a name and date, with the name none gathered could speak aloud yet. Three umbrellas covered them, each wearing their own black expressions of grief. Not a word shared between them, as the desert sand beneath their feet soaked the rain that fell around and onto the gravestone and ran down into the ground.
When Sinon had finally been able to call Ginrou and Klein, after she read the letter, the words didn't want to come out. But when they did, the response was the same. Silence, before a quiet assurance they would come. They had each visited her, Ginrou being more animated and worried, but she had never seen him so distraught, no matter how he tried to hide it. As for Klein, well, he showed up in his armor, having not been too long from the dungeons below.
She looked over at her teammate, messy hair combed back some, but his jaw was still stubbled. His dark eyes seemed darker than they have been, the amber light in his eyes dulling as time in this game passed. She was sure it was the same for all of them, but he had seen his own horrors that affected him more than the average player. Dyne's death, was another in a chain for them, but none the weaker for it.
"Is it. . . our fault?" Ginrou breathed out, barely audible among the rain. It was a sentiment all three shared, yet none had given voice too. She herself had been too afraid to ask that. The leader of their guild hadn't joined them in service to GMPF, it never did affect their relationship, or so they thought.
The silent samurai, as of until then, spoke, "How can it not be. We weren't there, we couldn't help him. He never asked for help, because he knew we weren't available to help."
His words cut like a cold knife, digging into Sinon's heart. Her hand gripped the umbrella, her eyes widening, as the memory of Dyne visiting her at GMPF's headquarters played back in her head.
"I'm afraid there is one other bit of business I came to hopefully get help with,"
"There's been some disturbing activity I've been keeping my eye on. I'd hoped that you could maybe help me with it, or even see if the GMPF would help out."
"Dyne I. . . I want to help out. But right now I have a mission I've been assigned and an important one too."
Her stomach churned, and her legs shook as she collapsed to her knees, her slack covered legs hitting sand as her umbrella fell, the cold rain assaulting her. He had asked for help, he had asked her.
"Sinon!"
The rain cut as two umbrellas covered her, the warm hands of her teammates touching her, but her body was frigid, eyes brimming with tears. "He. . . He did ask for help," was all she could get out, before her hands came to her face, tears spilling with heartbroken, guilty sobs. It was her fault.
Ginrou and Klein shared a look. Now wasn't the time to ask questions. An arm each wrapped around the weeping woman, they could offer nothing else now.
The rain and wind continued to pour down upon them, cutting through their bones, as the cold chill of their reality made itself known, just as the monuments to death surrounded them, and the barren earth that was their world.
The silent clicking of the analog clock in Sentinel Blue's office faintly ticked away, rain tattering on her window, as she sorted through various reports her officers had sent to her PC. The soft glow from her computer screen lit up the dark office, the sun blocked out from the dark rain clouds, leaving only a gray glow through drawn blinds. She had ordered a full count of their current state, after intel had combed through the data recovered from the Ravenhawk PC during the last operation.
Presently, their base of operations was located a good distance from Glocken itself, but in an area where sandstorms were constant. From a rational standpoint, it was a terrible place to build a base. However, she thought, they have not only good reason to build their base there but also must have the technology able to traverse it.
Opening a geographical map, she saw a mock up of an unknown area on Earth. Glocken itself was located on once known land – possibly Europe if she had to guess – yet the Ravenhawk base is located to the north, on the ancient seabed. Due to the War to End All Wars, Earth was devastated, its oceans being reduced to little more than massive lakes far away from the continents. Because of this, there were seas of sand now from where the water evaporated, and it was there Ravenhawk built, or found, a base in a sweeping area of nothing, where the wind caused havoc with the sand.
What was it you found there, Ravenhawk? Why build your area of operations there?
Her fingers slowly drummed away at her wooden desk. There was no denying the GMPF's superiority to the average player due to their armory, player count and cooperative organization within the guild. Though she used her military background to form the guild, in truth, most the players were civilians. They lacked discipline. Yet, the desire to survive made them easy enough to keep under her yoke.
Though she had no conclusive intel to prove the background of their opponents, she was all but certain the leader King, had a military background. Not only that, the average Ravenhawk member and squad were better trained and organized for the most part. As for how, it was illogical to think they could adapt better to training than GMPF's troops, as by sheer numbers, she should have enough trained and disciplined soldiers to form a companies, not a platoon. So that only left the idea that King somehow managed to recruit en-mass players like her officers, former JSDF and police forces. She shook her head, there was no point theorizing over Ravenhawk's capabilities, it meant nothing without proof.
Turning back to her PC, she clicked on the first report, to begin going through them. Supply counts, good. Their craftsmen had kept a strong workflow going in their factories and both their ammo stores and spare parts for repairs to their machinery and armory full. As it stood, each soldier could be equipped to standards, and still have enough to supply an FOB.
Personnel. GMPF had under their ranks a total of one-thousand, three hundred and seven members. Of those, three-hundred and twenty-two were craftsmen. They had the ability to fight, yes, but had focused more on their crafts making them more or less useless on the front lines. But that wasn't where their value lied. One-hundred and three civilian members that made up staff like cleaners, cooks, clerks and the like. They were players who were too terrified to fight, or worse, traumatized to. The remaining eight-hundred and eighty-two players compromised her fighting force.
That number, dwindled seemingly every day. Various skirmishes with the Ravenhawk and their "Dolls" had taken a toll on their numbers. The few they lost to the "Expedition Force" into the Labyrinth was only acceptable because of the items they drug up from the depths, but even that would need to stop when their final assault began.
Numerically, they had the advantage. The players in this game were four thousand strong at the start. While it was impossible to nail down how many were left precisely, at the most, two-thousand players would have been left alive at the end of the BoB, not counting for deaths prior to it. Almost all the final criminal players had been rooted out and dealt with in the slums, leaving only minor offenders who evaded capture. So player number wise, Ravenhawk had to be outnumbered two to one.
But that's assuming they only had players.
The weaponry they had shown to be in possession of was not without merit, or deserving of caution. The Dolls alone made their numbers seem equal to their own, not to mention the training and experience shown by their members. Perhaps even enough to say GMPF was at the disadvantage. But in the end this was not a fight they could run from. Win or lose, it was winner take all.
A knock at her door cut her short.
"Come in."
The polished door swung open, showing her second in command walk in, suit pristine and pressed. A crisp salute greeted her. "Ma'am. The initial reports from our scouts just came in. We've confirmed the location of the base is in fact true with the data. It's a veritable fortress, Ma'am."
Her brow furrowed, as he walked up placing a folder on her desk. Opening it, she saw the hazy images taken, obscured imagery thanks to the heavy sandstorm. But images and shapes could still be made out. Ones that worried her. "They have gun emplacements on their walls, trenches dug along the perimeter towards their gate and walls. And a reinforced wall around what looks like a military base."
Her vice-general nodded, "Correct, and by their written reports the base is heavily guarded by the Doll machines. They did a headcount as best they could, at least twenty or so could be seen on the walls and around it. They couldn't get any closer without running the risk of being detected by their sensors."
Rifling through the images once more she sighed, "So then, an aerial insertion is impossible. Those AA guns would rip through our helicopters. It's going to have to be a ground assault. Has the intel been fully processed?"
"Not yet Ma'am, the scouts are staying around to try and get an idea of soldiers going in and out of the base, and possibly what materials they may be using. We found a possible location to set up a forward operating base, but it'll take time to secure and set up quietly. I've estimated a week until we're ready to go."
"A week. . ." her response came slowly, as she drummed her fingers, slowly rubbing at her temple. "Very well, have the officers briefed and ramp up training and drills. Make sure all soldiers are prepared for desert combat in poor visibility, and have the craftsmen kitted out and ready to move to the FOB, as well as join the assault."
Her vice-general watched her for a moment, face betraying nothing, "Is that wise, Ma'am?"
Her fingers stopped. "Wise. . ? Hah," a hard, sarcastic laugh left soft lips, "who can be wise in hell, Taka. We're all to die in this game, sooner or later. I've no faith in a way we all get out alive. All we can do is fight as if there were, as I refuse to die like a dog."
A slow nod was his response, followed by a firm salute. "As you say, Ma'am."
After being dismissed he turned on his heels and walked out, a look of frustration on Sentinel Blue's face, as she considered the upcoming storm of blood.
One week.
The surviving members of Black Dog sat around Sinon's apartment for the reception, the shared grief and silence cut by the simultaneous notifications they all received. A grim reminder that here, death was not something that was given time to grieve or process.
Klein sat, arms folded, his expression neutral at the announcement of the upcoming operation. "It's something we can put on hold. Sinon, you said he came to you for help. Do you know what it was?"
Having changed from her black suit she wore to the graveyard, she looked down, "Not yet, no. But. . . that," She pointed with her chin, "Dyne left his notebook with me. I. . . I haven't been able to read through it yet."
All three regarded the worn leather pocketbook with some reverence. The old man had never left home without it and could be seen often scribbling notes in it. However, Klein was first to move, as he picked it up and flipped it open, his face grimacing. "It's. . . heavily soiled." He spoke, as blood had seeped into most of the pages.
He didn't allow the statement to linger long however, as crusty pages were forced apart, old blood caked between. There was enough to see, that he could date each scribbled entry with rough handwriting, starting from the day he bought it, and the adventures they shared together. It felt both wrong, and comforting, seeing into Dyne's personal thoughts like this. Though they were just glimpses, his writing showed he held all of them in higher regard than he let on.
Ignoring the lump rising in his throat, he stopped near the last few pages, eyes scanning what words were legible. "He was tracking someone from the Fuller corp. . . It seems it was a woman, someone who. . . could enter the building like Siegfried?!" He looked amazed as he read it, trying his best to make out the words.
"S-So, does that mean there are more people like Siegfried who are cheating?" Ginrou spoke, tone shaking from the implication of it.
"It's likely," he could just make out some of her description, reading it out, while a nagging thought came in Klein's head. He considered saying something, but then he caught Sinon's look. As if someone had just hit her. It seems, she understood it too.
Her fist, clenched, "She must have been the one who. . . who killed him." There was no guess in her voice, nor did either of them disagree. It had happened fast, but Sinon knew the only way a bullet could have killed him in one shot like that was a sniper round. Not any sniper round, but a poisoned one. It was impossible to shoot from the desert into the city proper, Glocken was too big for even the strongest rifle to keep its velocity to harm anyone or pierce a sky scraper, anything lower was protected by the ship's salvaged hull that worked as a makeshift barrier, not to mention the atmospheric controls that regulated the air and environmental factors blowing into the city itself wreaked havoc on a bullet in flight.
So that only left a shot fired from within the city itself. Which was impossible due to the ‹‹Sanctuary›› condition of Glocken's upper floor. That only left one possible solution, someone who worked for the enemy of all.
"This woman he tracked. . . killed Dyne," her words left with a fire, she had a target to focus on, her grief turned to anger as she looked at Klein, "Did he name the bitch?" Her eyes rested on him, as he tried his best to read it.
"No, there's no name," he heard the woman curse, "there is something, however. . . But it's marred. Mm. . . Slums, bombs. . . Ravenhawk?" He blinked as he read the hastily scribbled words that weren't destroyed by the dark blood covering the pages. "From what little I can make out, I think he saw Ravenhawk in the Slums, planting bombs."
"Eh?!" Ginrou turned to face him, "How? The city is under lockdown by guards! How the hell did they get bombs in? Why would they?"
Sinon bit at her nail, anger and grief wrapping around her heart causing immense pressure, her words snapped out like anger. "Those guards at the gate are useless, besides, they don't stop people from entering, only look for suspicious sorts. If there really are bombs, then they could have just as easily made them in the slums under our noses. But again, why? There's nothing down there."
The three thought to themselves, but Klein closed Dyne's notebook. "We can't know why. But what we do know, is whatever he found, cost Dyne his life. We can't let him have died in vain. Sinon, give Argo this book, and talk to her. If anyone can solve this it would be her."
She nodded in agreement, "I already sent her a text asking her to come over when she's able. I had the same thought."
Ginrou looked down at the table, hands gripping the other, "Dammit, Dyne. . . I won't let them have their way. I-I, we never. . . but you were –" small tears pricked at the corners of Ginrou's eyes as he choked back a sob and then stood up hard, pulling off his visor to wipe at his eyes, determination burning in them. "I'll do my own research too! I'll hack into every video camera I can, pull as much footage from that day. We'll find out who took him from us and make them pay!"
The heartfelt determination struck deep inside Sinon and she stood, nodding at him, "We won't let them get away with this. I don't know how much I can do personally, outside of connect with Argo and help her, but I swear I'll put a bullet in her."
Klein stood too, placing the notebook down, "We have a week to find them, before the assault begins. Between runs into the ‹‹Labyrinth›› I'll do my own questioning too, and keep my eyes open for anything."
"You're still gonna go down there, at a time like this?" Ginrou shot at the samurai, but almost withered away by the fierce gaze he was met with. It wasn't directed at him, but the sheer force it held scared him.
"Yes, he wouldn't want us to stop focusing on getting out of here for him. We all have our strengths, and mine is combat. I can't fight what I can't see, so I'll continue to fight. We're at floor fourty-one now. If what was told is true, our exit lies at the end of that damn place and this nightmare will end." He looked towards Sinon, who understood him, "Call me the moment you find out, I won't take your kill, but I want to see it."
The three nodded at each other. The bond they formed at the start of BoB, it wasn't something that only Dyne held together, but he was more than just one of them, he was their Patriarch, their Boss, their friend. And to each he held a deeper meaning, even if the others didn't know it.
But what was certain, was they would take, far more from the ones who killed their friend, than they had lost. Because when Black Dog sniffed out it's prey, it didn't stop until the hunt finished.
Howdy all! I know it's shorter than usual but I'm trying my best to continue my passion project. I'm going to try and write in smaller batches as I have this one to help get updates out to you all. To those who've stuck with me since I wrote the first, you have my eternal gratitude. Our tale is heading towards the end, and I will finish this story. I understand it may be hard to recall the plot and such from my lengthy pause between updates, and so I ask if you feel conflicted, do go back and re-read chapters. That said, I know that's a lot to ask, so, if anyone finds themselves lost leave me a review, and I'll try to answer any questions you have in the next chapter!
Holidays are always a busy time for any of us, but I'll try my best to get the next chapter out sometime in January, or maybe even sooner. Either way, really, if you're reading this last note, I love you all. You're my readers, the people I want to make this for, and satisfy. I hope you're all well, and that my work continues to satisfy and be enjoyable. Until next time my readers, stay safe, and be happy.
Shinobi no Ryu