Out of My Bones
Part Two: Little Balinese in the Big Apple





Alright, Yohji, get yer fat ass outta bed.

It was time to roll outta bed finally, it was almost noon and my stomach was growling. Getting dressed, I couldn't help but stifle a yawn. Stepping downstairs, I could only hear Ken and Ran fighting over god-shouldn't-know-what. Omi was outside entertaining the masses and I was stuck watering the plants. Damn it, I hate watering plants, it's.... well? Boring!

"I said... CLEARLY mind you... that THAT goes THERE. And THIS goes HERE." Ken always knew how to make a point, I was surprised that Aya didn't backhand him there.

My mind was wandering like usual, but not about various odds and ends, I was focused on finding Schuldig. I kept my loud mouth shut on this subject matter, then it dawned on me.

"I'm going to America!"

"That's nice." Aya groaned. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

"I love you too, Ran! I'll be sure to bring you a Statue of Liberty lighter and a snowglobe!!" I joked, hoping to High Hell I didn't get hammered by a flying flower pot.

But jokes aside, these thoughts wouldn't leave me alone. I knew if there was one person... ONE... who knew where to find Schuldig, it would be the ringleader of Schwarz himself.... Bradley Crawford... the Oracle. But me and him were never on speaking terms, well, after all, strangling one with wires does NOT make good buddy-buddy material. Then again, he's quite possibly the only one who can tell me and I have a couple days to plot out the PERFECT groveling technique. I sighed, hopeless. I might as well advertise all over the fucking globe.

Anything to not grovel to the Oracle...


Finally on the plane at last, English language book in hand. I skimmed through the pages, this is gonna suck. And I can't smoke on the flight, that sucks more. I put the walkman on and listened to the language tutorial, I tried out a few of the phrases and I realized one thing. If Crawford sucked hairy frog's nads with his Japanese, then turn-about's fair play... my English SUCKS!!!! Oh well, he knows Japanese.

I closed my eyes, feeling the plane take off, I guess I dozed off because now it was night and I saw the light of the Statue of Liberty. We were in the American city called New York City, and I noticed the big-ass gaping hole where the Towers were supposed to be. Taliban jack-asses.

Getting off the plane, I felt so like a fish outta water. Everyone looked so different than I did, and the other Epiphany hit me. Brad looked nothing like an Asian man, and I look nothing like an American. This is gonna be a long search, but as I sat in the lobby, holding my only piece of luggage, the news flashed, and my prayers of finding Crawford in NYC were answered. He was on TV!! Not as a criminal... as a FUCKING REPORTER!!!

"SCHWING!!!!" I screamed out, then shook the nearest person awake. "What TV Station is that and where can I find it?"

The guy looked at me odd and went back to sleep. I got up with my luggage and left for the taxis.


"Hello, Bradley." That was my greeting to an old enemy.

The handsome raven-haired American looked at me, the phone to his ear. He gave me a dirty-ass look and went back to the computer terminal.

"Yeah, I'll go do that crime spree scoop... but I want 35,000 dollars for my troubles. Jack-ass." He hung up and looked at me with those piercing gold eyes. "What, Kudo?"

"I'm looking for Schuldig. It's urgent that I find him."

Crawford smirked, he had something evil in mind. He turned toward the terminal and continued typing. "Step in line."

"You mean... you mean you don't know where he is!?"

"Maybe." Crawford sipped his coffee mug and flashed me a Cheshire Cat Grin. "How much you got?"

I sifted through my pockets and pulled out a wad of American dollars. "How's this, you cheap bastard?"

"Not money, dipshit. I got more money than I know what to do with." Crawford slapped the money away from my hand, then went back to the terminal. "I mean, how much are you wanting to put into looking for Schuldig?"

"All I have is money! I got nothing of value!!" I was begging now.

Crawford picked up the phone after half a ring. "Channel 8, Crawford speaking."

He licked his lips and grinned, then eyed me carefully. "Gutenabend, Herr Erik. Ja. Ja ist er hier. Senden Sie ihn rüber? In Ordnung. Ich informiere ihn. Auf Wiedersehen." He hung up the phone and looked at me, his hands on a white disposable pen. "You got lucky, Kudo." I finally seen what he was reaching for before the phone call. I kept my mouth shut now. "If Schuldig didn't call, you would have been a dead Balinese."

"..."

"Well, in any case, Schuldig's staying at the Five Star Hotel on the edge of Manhatten. Room 346... he's expecting you." He turned back to the terminal. "Now SCRAM!"

I did just that...


Retard.



-Continued-