Ayaya, now is NOT the best time to be a GB fanfic writer. SO MANY MANY things are getting revealed, and many are far from what the fandom initially thought. You can no longer assume on BOTH the past and the future of any of these guys. Many fics (and already, many of the anime fillers!) are being negated with each new chapter from those two crazies, junkies, geniuses……..that are the GB writer and illustrator. Don't worry, now that I know what I should not be doing, this story will not go against what information A&A are releasing.
Thanks much for reading something that's starting to scare the writer in me with each new chapter I make. I got a weird idea while on vacation. The stuff a nice hotel can inspire. 8 ) I hope you like it, and I hope I did right. Relatively short wait for a chapter, for once.
Disclaimer: Don't own Ban and Ginji (sigh.) But can I please keep Paul-sama? Please? He'll always be Paul-sama to me now!
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The bell at the door of the coffee shop clinked. Natsumi looked up from the dishes she was washing. She saw two men enter the Honky Tonk. Both had grass in their hair and tears in their clothes. The thinner, long-haired one held up the blonde one, who had an arm over his shoulder. He dragged his left leg with difficulty. His eyelids kept opening and closing. The long-haired man panted under the weight he carried.
It was already almost midnight. Paul had told Natsumi to go home earlier, but she said she wanted to wait for Ginji to come back before doing so. She was worried. He let her wait, while she finished the chores.
"Where have you guys been?" Natsumi asked with much concern. "You look terrible!"
"We ran into some trouble, that's all, Natsumi-chan," Ginji said faintly, and pointed Kadzuki to the table nearest the bar. He lowered the blond young man onto the seat. Ginji almost immediately flopped his arms and head over the table, and fell into heavy sleep. Kadzuki looked around the table and the bar. Natsumi eventually gave him the blanket Ginji used last night. The long-haired young man said his thanks, and covered the former Raitei with the blanket.
"The drug hasn't completely worn off yet," Kadzuki shook his head. The manager offered a cup of coffee to him, but he waved it away, as his eyes began to droop.
"Alright, Kadzuki, talk to me," Paul placed crossed his arms and prepared to listen. "What happened?"
"I am not sure, really," he said. "We were caught while infiltrating Chan's organization's building. We were shot at – or, strictly speaking, we were tranquilized. He got it worse than I did. Then I think they gave us a stronger tranquilizer soon after we were down. I woke up at the highway, with Ginji-san beside me."
"You WALKED back here?"
"Oh, no, no," Kadzuki smiled. "I called a Transporter for some help. She came with a van, and she dropped us off at the corner, before she went to another job. I paid her, of course. I think she's also wondering why the GB has no B, but did not ask questions. I can only hope no other creepier people have noticed as well."
"But did you find out anything? Did you find him?"
"This is the weird thing. I think I heard something from a walkie-talkie before I passed out completely. It sounded like Ban. Giving orders!"
The manager did not answer. He rubbed his chin and cocked up his glasses, then sighed at the blond young man asleep at the table.
The phone rang, and Natsumi answered it. "Honky Tonk, may we help you?" She listened for a while, then called out to Paul.
He came to the phone. "This is the manager, yes, what is it?………..Yes…………Also here…………Yes." And he ended the call.
"Who was that, Boss?" Natsumi asked after Paul lowered the receiver.
He answered, and looked at Ginji and Kadzuki. "Someone checking if the goods are alright."
"We'll be fine. Thanks, Paul, and we're really sorry for bothering you," Kadzuki said, as he too dropped down onto the table.
"He knows what he's doing," the manager told him quietly, then looked out the window. "I think."
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The door to the information room opened, and revealed a few armed men. He kept his devices, and raised his hands over his head.
"Oh, that will not be necessary, Midou-han," a voice came from a walkie-talkie held by one of the men who entered.
"Where are you taking those two?" he growled into the receiver.
"As you ordered, White Tiger. Just out of town. Rest assured they will be treated, well, gently."
He readied to chant for Asclepius.
"Very irritable, White Tiger, sir. Maybe some dinner will improve your mood?" the voice crackled again. "Boys, you know where to take him, right? Also, Midou-han, we would appreciate if you wear these," and a man tossed him a crisp white shirt, dark pants, and a suit. "It should improve your profile."
Ban was held at each arm by a burly man, and escorted into a dark car. There he slipped on the new clothes, after sniffing to make sure they were not taken from a previously living person.
He was brought to the best hotel in Shinjuku, and led into its restaurant.
"And how is the meal going to be paid?" he asked with a smirk.
"The organization will take care of that," the escorts said. They stood dutifully behind him, as entrees, appetizers, main course, and dessert were served in close succession. Sometime during the evening, he no longer cared about the escorts. He had never eaten such an incredible meal in his life. His initial fear of tainted food was replaced with relish. He had eaten sandwiches and pizza for too long.
After dinner he was led to the elevator, and brought to the top floor, into a large suite. The bedroom was distinct from the living room, and distinct from the kitchen. The floor was richly carpeted, and the trimmings were grand. A very classy apartment, rather than a hotel room.
"Don't hesitate to call us for anything, sir," one of the men said, and closed the main door of the suite behind him.
Almost midnight. The suite was nice, but there was only one thing he wanted to know. He ran to the telephone, and dialed. A few rings later, his call was answered.
"Honky Tonk, may we help you?" came a chirpy female voice at the other end.
He coughed and tried to muffle and deepen his voice. "May I speak to the manager please?"
"Just a minute……" a few seconds ……
"This is the manager, yes, what is it?"
He started to whisper into the receiver. "Is he there?"
"Yes."
"The spool?"
"Also here."
"Both okay?"
"Yes."
"Thanks." He put down the phone. And sighed with much relief. The spark and the spool were alive and alright. He would get details from Ginji later after the job was done.
Now, to check on the suite.
He checked the large suite for cameras and microphones. He did find a few, and disconnected them as well as he could. For the rest that he could not find, he would let them be. So Chan would not think too badly of him. OH, for the want of a sparker to get even some static running through a room, to disable all recorders. All the money in the country, for a sparker.
He now checked the rooms for their aesthetic and economic value.
Only a few words can be said about the entire suite. Very artistic. Very stylish. VERY expensive. From the marble bath to the gold-rimmed bedposts, everything exuded class and opulence. He did not want to know how they got the money to maintain such a suite.
In the middle of the living room, on top of a marble table, was a beautiful statue, of entirely green, shimmering stone. A handsome dragon stood ready for anything, both to kill and to protect. He had seen it before, but not this close. He never believed he would see it that close to him, with the dragon almost about to breathe fire onto his cheek. An incredible piece of sculpture, maintained with the highest care.
The Jade Dragon!
He then slapped his head. That can't be. It was just another replica, like many others. He laughed. That was too easy, if it was the real thing, way too easy! Maybe he could just tell Chan that was THE Jade Dragon he was after, get the money, end the job, and return to the Honky Tonk and Paul's coffee.
Nonetheless, he poked at the replica in his room, checking for other details he had overlooked earlier. He even lifted the statue with some heaving. It was heavy. He grumbled afterward. Nothing under the base. No hidden wires, batteries, recorders, or cameras. It was clean. An ordinary green statue.
It was a bit unusual, though. This replica of the Jade Dragon had small Chinese characters written at its base. He fished out his translator device, and eventually made out what it said.
The eyes of the tiger are drawn to the heart of the dragon.
He had seen the replica at the museum, said to be the closest, and that one did not have the inscription at the bottom. Since that time other Jade Dragon replicas, larger and smaller, had emerged. So he did not make much of this. Chan probably had this replica made for himself. Maybe Chan had the inscription written in, as a reminder to keep finding the elusive ancestor.
Then he saw it. More characters, on the base, at the side opposite the first inscription. He tried the translator, but got nothing. Finally he noticed. Hiragana. So the rest was kanji.
Death to the red dragon.
Red dragon? But the statue was green! What did the stuff about a red dragon mean? Obviously Chan did not know, otherwise a red dragon would have been mentioned either by him or by the files that he read through. So, if Chan did not know what the red dragon was, why would he make an inscription about it? Maybe he got it from a previous boss who knew what the characters meant. Oh, well.
Ban decided to check on the red dragon in the morning. Right now, he readied his purple glasses, and made for the door. He thought about doing some exploring while he was there.
But the door was locked.
"Sorry, sir. Orders from the boss," someone outside said. "You shouldn't be let out tonight."
"I thought I would be allowed to do what I want," he asked from inside.
"It's just for your safety, sir. We don't want you killed."
They also did not want him to escape. All the windows had at least one man guarding it, or a sniper looking at it from some distance.
He sighed. He would make the most out of a bad situation. He pulled out the blanket, and slipped into bed. With Ginji and Kadzuki safely at the Honky Tonk, he could more or less get some shuteye in peace.
He was allowed to sleep at leisure. Being used to night work, he got up almost at noon, and still found a hearty breakfast ready and waiting. He did not know how it was managed, but a suit was laid out on the sofa, and a soft bathrobe and towel were ready at the bathroom. He was sure that no one entered the suite without his knowledge. But then again, maybe he had underestimated how tired he was. He still felt rather groggy. It was not supposed to be that way.
If what was done to the sparker was also done to him………at least he knew he was not subjected to a slow death, or his brain altered in some way.
He felt through the suit, simple and dark, but classy. No hidden microphones or gadgets. This was not like Jackie Chan's tuxedo from that crazy movie. When he tried it on, he could not help but smooth down his messy hair to match it. But something about his hair being ironed down did not seem right, and he ruffled it again. And cocked up his purple glasses.
Even he was surprised at himself. He looked exactly like the man in the sepia print. The original White Tiger.
He did not know if he was supposed to be alarmed or pleased.
He heard a knock through the door. "Are you ready, sir?"
"Call me Ban, for goodness' sakes," he called out. "What am I supposed to be ready for?"
"The boss says you have to be introduced to the heads of the subgroups."
"I suppose," he answered, as he packed translator, media player, and handheld into pockets, gave his hair a final ruffle, and opened the door. "Will Chan be with us?"
"No, he will meet us," came the answer of a guard, who bowed to him. "Follow me, sir."
He swore under his breath. No chance to kill the man in a car, then.
He was led to the main hall and front steps, where a black limousine waited for them. He settled himself comfortably at the back seat, as the man who escorted him sat with the driver. It was nice, he had to admit. He almost expected his blonde thunderstorm of a friend to move from window to window, tugging at him to check out the black leather on the seats, the soda cans in the little refrigerator, and the wine glasses to the side. He felt the same way, even if he did not show it. This was classy living! Sweet!
The limo passed the main streets, including the street where the Honky Tonk was. He saw their Beetle parked near the door, gathering dust. He also saw his blonde partner trying to clean the café's street windows. Thank goodness he was perfectly alright.
He did not know why, or what, made the spark plug turn his head. But Ginji saw the car. Ginji saw the people inside the car. Ginji dropped the rag. He kept staring at Ban in the car, even as it passed the little coffee shop.
But he could not, should not be seen having associations with him. If he wanted to keep him alive. If he wanted to stay alive in the organization.
He tossed his head, and looked away. Then he clenched his teeth.
The eyes of the tiger are drawn to the heart of the dragon.
It was a bad analogy. He was a growly, grumbly tiger, with a fate drawn and knit with an annoying fire-breathing—erm, electricity-firing—dragon with a magnanimous heart. He hated having to do it to Ginji. He kept convincing himself that it did not matter, that he did not care about Ginji, that he was better off this way. With power and money at beck and call.
It was not working.
He was learning bitterly. The White Tiger had no real friends.
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I can't believe this chapter. I can't believe how long I tried to stay in Ban-chan's head! Am I dead sure I know the sea urchin well enough to do this? If you have mafia-type info, bring it on when you review, okay? My knowledge is limited to some TV and the Organo in Texhnolyze.
I'm now up to speed and current to the GB manga, thanks to TakadaInmate's LJ summaries. I am a Paul fan for life! So cool, so cool! I bow before you, Paul-sama! I'm trying to keep cool, trying to keep my excitement under control and keep Paul behind a counter in this fic. I can't watch the GB anime anymore and not think about it! To keep my sanity I tell any GB anime fan friend that I know about Paul-sama (just that raw fact, sparing them the headache that is the Voodoo Children and Lost Time arcs – I understood it, but I don't get it). They all agree with me that it's so cool. Next project: try to get better acquainted with that Amon person, that Specialist woman, Maria Noches…..I still can't place who Maiya is! I am glad I got reading for the manga-only content of GB at the time major developments are being given. It's a great time to be a GB fan. It's an annoying time to be GB fanfic writer!
By the way, this story will not be a very long one, just in case you're expecting it to be.
Atropos Knife – I didn't realize you're one of the more respected people in the GB section, am honored by your presence and comments. Thanks for thinking I'm doing the right thing. Chan is nefarious? Erm, thank you? I'm glad Kadzuki is back in line. I'm ekmisao at LJ, do find me and friend me, okay?
Crimson Vixen – Thanks so much. Am scared now.
The Sinner of Anger – Thanks a lot. Hope to see you again!
Yami Neko Tenshi – The sword technique profile is in the Jinchuu arc manga for Enishi. He's an awesome guy, really.