Mexican Standoff

by Heavens to Bikini Kill (who is shamelessly "jocking" Reservoir Dogs)

Two

Yes, indeed. It was a month ago when I met these four (technically three) other men.

I was a year out of high school, living quite comfortably alone in my own apartment in Domino's Y District (which is across town from that dump I used to live in with my father). I had a full-time job at a used record shop. It wasn't exactly a career in neurosurgery, but it brought in enough to pay for the rent, the food, and some extra cash to my dad every now and then, when I could afford to do it. (He and I were in the process of healing up our... relationship. At least he's not drinking the sauce anymore. Thank you, God.)

The owner, and my boss, was a small, stocky, red-faced American named Bellagio Joe. (He looks at me funny whenever I say his last name first. Sorry, Joe, I'm Japanese.) He didn't like to converse much with his employees, but it was nice being there regardless. I got to listen to music all day, sell music all day, and talk about music all day. It was a dream.

Then one day Joe pulled me out of a very heated debate with another pimply employee over the importance of bridges in songwriting. (That idiot thought that bridges were mere crutches for writers to lean on when they didn't have any other verses to think of! Next he'll be claiming that choruses are annoying, repetitive sacks of uncreativity!) He took me to his back office, a place that I had not seen ever since my first day of work.

"Jonouchi," he grumbled through his cigar smoke (Did I mention that his Japanese needs some work?). "I like you."

"Um... arigato, Bellagio-san?" I was dripping with politeness, thinking that he verbally considering firing me.

"I like you a lot, kid, and I want to do something to show you that."

"Um... okay..." I wasn't about to smart mouth my boss.

He reached into his desk and pulled out a small pad of paper, covered in greasy fingerprints and the like. Why Joe would ever have greasy fingerprints in a record store is beyond me.

He slapped it on his desktop and dug through piles and piles of junk buried underneath more junk, swearing to himself as he looked for a pencil. After finally finding some sort of writing utensil, he scribbled in his terrible Japanese furiously, tearing off the sheet with a flourish, and pushing it to me.

I took a glance. An address.

Joe grinned. "Go there right after you clock out."

What was I gonna do, say no? To my own boss?

The last kid I saw who tried to say no to Joe came out of that ordeal without his job or his self-esteem. The only things spared were his limbs (which he thanked the gods for everyday).

I said I'd be there. And nobody lies to Joe.

After work.

My old Honda motorbike carried me throughout town to the address Joe had given me. I attempted to find a parking space in the vast, yet cramped lot. I found one, that was about three times the size of my bike, and I prayed that no raging motorist would knock it over.

As I tucked my helmet under my arm, I navigated my way to the actual building, vaguely remembering the way there. When I finally cleared the expanse of air pollutants, I bit my lip to keep from screaming in pure frustration. All of that parking space in front of one stupid Denny's? Why do they even have a Denny's in Domino, Japan?

I stomped right into the place, the dark cloud over my head obvious enough to everyone in the general area so that they would know enough to back off. I was quickly pointed to the largest booth in the place, filled with Joe, three men I didn't know, and...

Kaiba.

The same man that I hadn't seen or talked to (argued with) in quite some time, yet the last man I really wanted to see. I swear I saw him see me, but he pretended as if he had been concentrating entirely on the man next to him, who was wearing the world's silliest cowboy hat along with a very revealing dress shirt.

Joe looked up, saw me, and beamed, glad that I actually was willing to listen to him outside of work. (Though we all know that his employees are generally petrified of him. If he asked me to run buck naked through downtown Domino in the middle of winter, I would do it.)

I sat next to another man, who had terribly messy hair (okay, messier than mine, at least) and had a patch on his right eye. I had no intention of asking what happened to it. I turned to Joe. "I'm... here." I tried my damnedest to smile, and lost even that when nobody else did.

Joe grinned. "Boys, this is the last man in. You'll call him Mr. Neptune."

Um, what?

Pretty-dressed-boy ignored me completely. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, Venus, how can you possibly say that Cowell Simon is not gay? Look at him! He wears shirts tighter than mine. His hair alone screams 'blatantly homosexual'! It's so obvious -- "

"Uranus!" Joe barked, stopping the rant just in time. "Shut your fuckin trap!"

Mr. Uranus fell silent, and glared at me, as if it was my fault that he couldn't add more warrants to prove his point. He paused for a moment. "You know, if you grew out your bangs a bit more and kept them in your face, I'm sure you'd look nine times hotter."

I wanted to hit the guy, but another well-placed death glare from Joe shut him up good.

Finally getting the silence he need, Joe got to the explanation. "Here's how it works, men. There are five of you. You don't know each other, you aren't to tell anyone your names. Only I know your names, and you all know me. That's the way it's gonna stay -- I don't need you ratting on each other." He paused and grinned. "I know for a fact that none of you got the balls to rat on me."

I never really enjoy correcting Joe, but it was necessary. "Um, Joe, sir?"

"Yeah, Neptune?"

I pointed to Kaiba. "K -- "

"Mr. Mars to you," Joe interrupted.

"Mr. Mars and I already know each other."

"What?" Joe peered at me carefully. "How do you know each other?"

Kaiba snorted and rolled his eyes. "The dog and I went to high school together."

Not too long ago, I would have tackled the guy to the ground, swinging my fists wildly and thoughtlessly, absolutely unafraid of starting a scene. Now, I just stopped caring. I rolled my eyes and sighed, ignoring him completely.

I'm sure my lack of reaction surprised him to an extent, but he went on as if he didn't notice shit. Right.

Joe shook it off. "Whatever, that was a mistake on my part. However, I will be watching you two a bit more closely. If there's a snitch, I'm definitely putting you at the top of my suspects' list."

Now, normally, I would have protested fiercely, not really needing to be on any list of Joe's. But I had no idea what I was supposed to have snitched about. I made this sentiment obvious.

Joe continued. "Look, boys, I know you aren't used to this idea, but trust me. If you stick with me, your asses will go far."

Kaiba paid rapt attention, and I knew why. Kaiba Corp had declared bankruptcy only two months before. Back in high school, I would have thrown a helluva block party for everybody I knew.

Nobody dared to interrupt Joe when he was really into his talking. "In exactly one month, an armored truck detail will be running through Domino, carrying an obscenely huge shipment of platinum for the local jewelers. This is the biggest shipment of the year, so that they'll be set in case of inflation or depreciation of the value. Right now, that platinum is set to be worth quite a lot on the market. Which is precisely why in exactly one month, that platinum is going to be ours."

I nearly shit a brick. I may not know much about crime, but I have enough common sense to know that any obscenely huge shipment of very valuable platinum would be very heavily guarded.

"I picked out each of your because I know you all will have something extremely valuable to add to this thing. Mr. Jupiter -- " he was referring to the one-eyed man, " -- the most violent man I've ever met. You're not afraid to pick a fight when you have to. Mr. Venus -- " a plain man with normal black hair and eyeglasses, " -- extremely skilled in obtaining information. Mr. Uranus -- " of course, he was referring to the campy guy, " -- you just know how to fix any problem, and I've seen you clean up some pretty messy shit. Mr. Mars -- " Kaiba, who I was still ignoring, " -- you still have access to hundreds, if not thousands, of places in Japan, and Mr. Neptune." He paused for a while, obviously trying to think of my valuable skill. "Well, Mr. Neptune, I just like you."

I swear to the gods I heard Mr. Jupiter snicker in contempt. But I wasn't going to pick a fight with a one-eyed man.