Chapter 2
Police headquarters in Tokyo Haven were something akin to hell, a screaming mess of work and life with little apparent order. In order to run an entire city of ruthless outlaws, it had to be. Saito could appreciate this. Sagara, on the other hand, did not seem appreciative in the least.
The chaos was tightly controlled, but overbearing, a cacophony of life trapped in a sterile, white building. The shouts of inmates in the holding facilities echoed down into the main building of the station. The noise of their lives echoing in the sanctuary of offices and cubicles. Above the intrinsic hum of the inmates was the noise that accompanied any office - the conversations, ringing telephones, radio broadcasts, whir of a facsimile or copying machine. It built, in some places, lulled in other, but the chaos seemed to control the people more than the people seemed to control the chaos. At times, Saito mused, the order of every business was disorder, the way of life cluttered like the city streets were cluttered, by rubble and people and sometimes impassible barriers.
Sagara was scowling at every person who crossed his path. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his black trench coat, his shoulders hunched dangerously. Sagara struck the chief as a man angry at the world. If twisted in the wrong direction, Saito imagined that Sagara could be a very dangerous force. In the same way, if the administration could sway him, he would be invaluable.
You aren't here to be arrested, Sagara, Saito snapped. So don't act like it.
He growled softly. Excuse me for having little faith in your fucking regime, Mr. Police Chief, sir.
One of the officers stood in front of him, rigid and at attention.
the tall man said.
Sir, we've apprehended three of the-
Thank you, Saito cut in, throwing a wary glance at Sagara. I understand. Leave the report in my office. I'll speak to your team later about the issue. Dismissed.
The officer saluted, and disappeared off into the office.
The dark-haired boy was giving him a dubious look, his eyebrows raised, a smirk playing on his lips. Save it for my office, Saito snapped, and the kid chuckled.
You sure are full of shit, Chief, he said.
Mind if I smoke? Saito asked once they were in his office.
Sagara shrugged. Suit yourself. That shit is bad for you, though.
The elder man snorted, and leaned back in his armchair. He lit a cigarette, and blew out the first cloud of acrid, grey smoke, regarding the young arms dealer through the fog. They don't sell tobacco in many places, Sagara, precisely for that reason. The administration outlawed it years ago as a health risk.
But they'll kill children with heart disease or asthma. Sagara did not look comfortable in his seat, in this room, in Saito's company. He looked resentful of the whole headquarters and everything it stood for.
Not children, Sagara. Young adults. And, yes, they do. Cigarettes cause cancer, Sagara, cancer and birth defects in pregnant women, among other things. Those are unacceptable health risks. He sucked in smoke, held it, and let it out.
You sound like a fucking textbook, Chief. I spent long enough in school for my fucking tastes. Don't need you lecturing me. Sagara glared at him, his golden eyes dark and glittering. So fucking smoke your special cigarettes if you want to, but don't expect me to care.
You're very passionate, for someone who claims not to give a shit, Sagara. Saito inhaled more smoke, waited, and exhaled. His office had no windows - To be near a window in Tokyo Haven, especially if you were someone important like himself, was mere folly. A window was an opportunity for someone to shoot you.
Never said I didn't care about anything, he pointed out, leaning back in his own chair. Just don't care about bastards like you.
Saito laughed. Although obnoxious, the boy was certainly entertaining . . . And he had promise, he really did. All he needed was encouragement. So what, pray tell, do you care about?
What do I care about? Sagara sounded dubious, perhaps rightly so. You're asking me.
I'm asking you, Saito reiterated.
Sagara's smile was tight, vicious, his mouth a thin, pale line. I'll tell you what I care about, Mr. Big Shot I Run the Whole Fucking City So Bow Down to Me' Police Chief. His face was set, the anger clear and bright in his features. Sagara, Saito knew in that moment, was a passionate man - a passionate, determined man. I care about a little thing called justice. And another little thing called honour. None of you - you administration scum - know anything about it. You all know a lot about peace and harmony, but none of that's any good if you're a fucking bunch of hypocrites.
Oh, yes . . . This young man would be perfect for their purposes. Simply perfect. Let me tell you something, Sagara. Tokyo Haven, in case you haven't noticed, is a little different from the rest of the planet.
Sagara cut in. It's a pile of shit!
But a free pile of shit, Saito corrected. Tokyo Haven is called a haven because it's the only place on the planet - on the planet, Sagara - where a criminal may live as a citizen. The only place on the planet where weapons may be manufactured and dealt; the only place where drugs - like tobacco and alcohol - are sold freely. There is not another city on the planet with a liquor store. If there is alcohol, it is rationed for medicinal or celebratory purposes. You've lived a privileged life here in Tokyo Haven for these past fifteen years, even if you don't realize it.
Fuck you, you bastard! the thin youth snarled, leaning forward, clutching the arms of the chair tightly.
Keep your temper, boy. The citizens of Tokyo Haven may enjoy a gross amount of freedoms, but we could still bring you down for escaping extermination.
he returned smugly. I'm one hundred percent. You can't exterminate me if I'm over ninety-seven percent and you know it.
Of course, but you weren't when you escaped, and that is a capital offense. The smirk slipped from the kid's face, and Saito took pleasure in it. We've let it go all these years - at first because you were just a kid who didn't matter, and, now, because we want your help.
Some way to win a guy's favor, Sagara said coldly. If they wanted my help, they could've sent someone a little bit nicer instead a you. Hell, I liked that whore you sent more than I like you.
Saito smiled briefly. So you enjoyed Okita's visit, did you?
If that's what his name is. Sagara shrugged. He pissed me off, but he's at least cuter than you are. And, besides, he didn't smell like exhaust.
If you're quite done, Sagara, I'd like to explain to you why we've invited you here.
the kid said, leaning back and tucking his hands behind his head. Like I said before, suit yourself. You're the boss, here. You should try acting like it sometimes.
Very well, boy. Saito rose, and locked his office door, which - he could feel it in the air - made Sagara a whole hell of a lot more uneasy. He went back to sit down behind his wide desk, and sat back in his armchair again. Let me give you a little history lesson, Sagara. I think you might just enjoy it, if you gave it a chance.
After taking another drag on his quickly burning cigarette, Saito began. In 2078, the Reconstruction began - Don't interrupt yet, Sagara, he said quickly when the boy opened his mouth to object. 2078 found the planet in ruins, suffering from the greatest destruction in history. Measures were taken - drastic measures. In our pacifist regime, there is no longer a word in use that describes the cause of this destruction. The Reconstruction administration found it imperative to wipe out all memory of the incident, in which they have been surprisingly successful. Any child born today will grow up with no word in their vocabulary to describe the kind of fight' that resulted in global destruction.
Admirable as that might be, there have been many other words removed from the language, in an attempt to discourage violence. Don't look so surprised, Sagara. I'm sure you, with all the schooling you'd ever need, would know that. But there is one word among many that interests the administration right now:
Vampire.' Do you have any idea what that word might mean . . . ?
The hazel-eyed youth glared at him, as if to say, So what if I don't?' His hands were clenched in white-knuckled fists behind his head.
I didn't think so. Don't worry, Saito said with a strain of false sympathy. Most people don't, either. Even the officers I have working on the case don't understand, truly, what it means to be a vampire.' But I'm offering to tell you because I think - and the administration agrees - that, armed with this knowledge and the proper training, you could be a very powerful force for us.
Who the hell says I wanna work for the administration?! Sagara snarled.
We're offering you immunity, Sagara, the chief said coolly. Total freedom. The promise that you can live the rest of your life without the threat of death lurking around. That's not to say that we're going to encourage you to challenge the administration, but you will be protected. Should you get sick, we'd have medical facilities ready. Should you get in trouble with the law, we'd provide lawyers.
You bastard, the boy spat. I'm not so easily bought!
The freedom to leave Tokyo Haven? To see your biological family again? They're still around, you know. A father, a mother, two healthy, happy children. The boy ninety-seven percent, the girl ninety-eight. We have a file on them, because they are yours. Wouldn't you like to leave Tokyo Haven some day . . . ? Wouldn't you like to live in an open city - a real city?
Their silence was heavy as Sagara considered. He hadn't been outside the city limits in fifteen years and, though Tokyo Haven was expansive, he sometimes felt trapped. Once you went into the Haven, you never came out again. Tell me what this job is.
Saito smiled. I'm glad to hear you're interested. The chief took another drag on his cigarette, the smoke curling his head as be began.
The word vampire' is old in its origins, dating back thousands of years before the Reconstruction. A vampire,' in the classical definition, is understood to be a reanimated corpse which sustains itself by killing and drinking the blood of the living.
Sagara made a face. That's sick.
The older man sneered, agreeing. Yes. And it only gets better from there on in. There are many different stories about these supernatural creatures. Sometimes they're hideous monsters, sometimes they're beautiful, sometimes they have souls, and sometimes all they're interested in is death . . .
So why are you telling me fairy tales about gross, blood-hungry corpses? Tryin' to scare me into submission?
Saito ran his free hand through his thick, black hair. In the other hand, the cigarette was almost entirely burned down. He inhaled more smoke, letting it out slowly. No. I'm telling you because, if you choose to accept our offer, this is the enemy you will be facing.
He couldn't help it. He really couldn't. His mouth hung open. You're kidding, right?
Not at all, Saito said, putting out the smoldering butt of his cigarette. You're not a student of history, I can tell. So rest assured when I tell you that the fact that anything is possible' is substantiated by solid historical evidence.
In any case, he continued, the administration would like to hire you to serve as a sort of - bounty hunter . . . In other words, we'll pay you, per corpse, for every vampire you kill for us. Sagara's handsome eyes were still wide in shock. It pleased Saito greatly. Do you want to know more?
There was silence, and Sagara's face closed down, his mouth thinning, his eyes narrowing speculatively, as he steeled himself to the idea. Tell me how to kill the fuckers.
Notes:
You're probably confused now . . . But, eventually, things will be clarified - somewhat, at least. For now - Well, look forward to Sano's first kill as a bounty hunter, among other things.
Once again, gigantic thanks to Clarus-sempai-sama-dono, who is kind enough to beta this silly little thing, not to mention continually support any efforts I may be making. Thank you, dear. Also, hugs to Rei-chan, who I can't bug as much now. Little Miss College is far away. ::Cries.::
Saaaaaaaa . . . More soon - Hope you liked this.
Yoroshiku, baby, desuno!
SnM