I've got myself a strange idea. I've been going through a few Persona 5 fics and many have been good or at least interesting. One of which I came across was a crossover with Harry Potter where an old Akira after reaching the "end of the line" of his life is confronted by Lavenza one last time after things fell apart after the defeat of the final boss. He is provided the chance to redo his life from the beginning of the events in Persona 5 after he gets sent to the city and takes it. No, this is not a crossover, but just an introduction to the premise. So, what is the exact premise that I want to set up? Here's what I'm thinking: Akira isn't able to figure out the whole Persona thing nor the thing about Palaces in time and books it before being expelled and disappears. Decades later he reappears as another man entirely, a spy. And I'm not talking about some James Bond type, but more of the Michael Weston type. He goes on a mission one day and dies fulfilling his mission and while his body gets full burial rights and his sacrifice is honored, he's confronted in the afterlife (or the gates to get there) and is offered another chance to redo it all as this wasn't what was intended for his life. He takes it; however, it can never be too easy and there must be a price to be paid.

He goes back and is in his old body, but doesn't remember anything, feeling like it was a dream. Up until he sees Kamoshida, waves of memories flow forward including a flashback-flashforward. With that memory revealed his time-traveling "past" is revealed to him and all the skills that includes. It should be noted that there will be narration from Akira. This will be centered text.

Title: I used to be a spy(?)

Rating: M to be safe.

Pairing(s): Undecided. Potentially Akira/Makoto or Akira/Haru.

Summary: After an Op went wrong, a grown-up and weathered Akira Kurisu dies knowing that at least he completed his mission. En route to the afterlife, he's stopped by a silver-haired girl wearing butterfly pins asking if he'd be willing to redo his life, to get it back on track to its destined outcome as this was not the way it was supposed to go. He agrees and finds himself waking up in a subway car on the way to Tokyo at the ripe age of sixteen. How will the mind of a weathered spy fair in a redo of his teenage years?

Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my copy of MS Word and my desktop. Persona 5 belongs to ATLUS. I only own this iteration of this idea. See the foreword for the full disclaimer.

XxXxXxX

Contrary to popular belief, spies do engage in open combat from time to time. It's avoided as much as possible, but it happens. And when it happens, it is important to know how to fight and how to get out in one piece.

"Incoming!" someone called out in English. Before anyone could react, the Humvee shook from the hit of an RPG. To clarify, the lead vehicle was hit in the convoy.

The Humvee's occupants climbed out of the vehicle with weapons drawn. As they did, they were assaulted by gunfire of various small calibers. Mainly 7.62 x 39. "Check the lead Humvee for survivors," a man called out. "Everyone else protects the VIP!"

The soldiers immediately broke into two groups, one went towards the Humvee that had been disabled and started to check for survivors. Of that group, part of them provided suppressing fire towards the direction the gunfire had originated from. I as well had taken my M4 carbine and took a position behind the Humvee's hood on the driver's side, using it as a stabilization platform. I found a man squatting, attempting to take cover behind a rock. I adjusted for the elevation and firing angle and took a shot. It impacted the hostile but was non-lethal but it made them no longer combat viable. In fact, some of their comrades attempted to render aid but were held off by suppressing fire.

I pull out my radio and start a broadcast. "Command this is Ghost Rider, we are under heavy assault by hostiles. Requesting immediate support."

I fired upon another target. "Roger, Ghost Rider," came the man on the other side of the radio. "Routing UCAV for ground support."

"We need more than that, there has to be an entire battalion on that ridge."

"Understood, but we'll need time to get assets into position."

"Well, if you want this VIP alive, you'll make it quick!" I shout back in as a round misses my head by mere inches, it skipped off of the hood of the Humvee. "Fuck!" I look up and see no one on the M2. "Someone get up on the MaDuce!" I order.

Someone obeys without argument and starts laying down suppressing fire of .50 BMG SLAP rounds. Seconds later missiles start to rain down from the sky and their explosions light up the hillside revealing just how many people are there. The firefight seems to go on forever and the gunner gets hit and goes down. Feeling a pull, I go inside the Humvee and pull the injured man, no more than a child out, and set him in the seat next to the VIP. I hand a medkit to the VIP who, without saying anything starts patching up the kid. As for me? I climb into the turret and continue where the kid left off: spraying the ridge with deadly fire. The rhythmic thumping of the heavy machine gun drowning out other sources of gunfire.

I didn't even notice it until it was too late. I felt several burning holes appear in my torso, but I continued to keep firing, the mission had to succeed. I fought against myself to stay awake and continue laying down fire. The entire hillside erupted in fire and brimstone after felt like forever.

"Go, go, go!" someone ordered and the Humvee lurched forward. I fell out of the gunner's seat from the movement. Any last bit of strength left my body and everything went dark. "Man down! We have a man down!" the same man called out.

Sometimes, though, you don't make it out in one piece. The only thing you can take confidence in is that you completed the mission.

Two weeks later the conflict that I had been involved with ended. It turns out if you have unfinished business your spirit hangs out for a while. There was an extremely private ceremony at the CIA building in Washington. I got a service star installed on that wall right as you enter the building. One of the nameless individuals only known by directors and coworkers. Then there was the much more public ceremony in Arlington. Many of my coworkers were there and former squadmates were there. In the back, I saw people I never expected to see: Ann Takamaki and Ryuji Sakamoto. They looked older – as was to be expected – and much more tired. Like things hadn't gone well for either of them in any aspects of life since I saw them last.

I approached them, as I did, I heard them whispering in our mother tongue: Japanese. "Who knew Ren became an ex-pat and served in the American army?" Ryuji asked. "Seems like he had his entire life figured out."

Not really.

They talked among themselves. It was also like they hadn't seen each other for a significant amount of time as well. Before they could talk any further, the chaplain giving a homily about not fearing death or giving one's life to save another was the height of love. Or something. As he finished the head of the honor guard folded the flag on my coffin and handed it to someone I couldn't see and salute. It would have never been my mother. The spiteful witch had long since cut ties ever since the incident in our hometown. And dad? He wasn't really around. What followed was a twenty-one gun salute.

Those that make careers in public service know the risks of death. Firemen no matter how strong they are may be ended by a faulty respirator and die of carbon monoxide poisoning or a falling beam. Police officers may die in the line of duty for not following procedure during a traffic stop and get hit by an unforeseen car barreling down the highway. And soldiers and spies? Well, that's sort of obvious, isn't it?

I looked around expecting to be taken up to heaven or be dropped to hell but nothing happened. "Ok, so now what?"

"Now, you have to make a decision at this crossroads," a gentle girl's voice replied. I turned to see a girl dressed in that same strange blue that I only barely remember in my dreams.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"You knew me as another previously. But you've gone down a path that was not yours to take. I offer you a second chance."

"A second chance?"

"Yes. The first time around was not the way it was supposed to go. You were destined for greatness and eventually happiness."

"Well, it didn't."

"And that's why you're being offered another chance. If you accept it, your soul will still enter the Sea of Souls but it will be sent back. Back before all of it began to go downhill."

"You're talking about time travel."

"Do you not recall the first thing my Master once said? The Velvet Room is a place that exists between mind and matter, between dream and reality. Reality also includes time itself."

"So, I go back in time, and then what?"

"You get the timeline back on the correct path. This time you have an advantage."

"Advantage?"

She smiled; it was in a way that was borderline unnerving. But I liked it. "This time they won't be exacting a student with the skills and experiences of a veteran spy."

It was safe to say I took the deal.

XxXxXxX

I jerked awake gasping for air. It had felt like I hadn't breathed in ages. I patted at myself, trying to see if there was anything wrong with me, but there wasn't. Bad dream? The other onlookers in the train car gave me weird looks, but I ignore them. I arrive at my destination after two line transfers: a little hole-in-the-wall café that belongs to the man who will be taking care of me for this year.

As soon as I arrive, I get the riot act. Basically: behave or you'll be back in police custody, and you won't like that. The following day we went to Shujin Academy, the school that had accepted me. For what reason? I do not know. All other schools wanted nothing to do with me. I had intentionally sent applications to smaller schools in the middle of nowhere. They want me to lay low and live crime-free? The middle of nowhere sounds nice this time of year. But that wasn't what happened; in fact, none of them bothered replying. Not even a form replies of declining it. Just outright silence. Rude.

The talk at Shujin with Principal Kobayakowa went the same as it did with Sojoro: keep your nose clean. I got my uniform and went back to the attic. Cleaned it up a bit, mostly the workbench that I could use as a place to do homework or put a computer on. Though, I'd have to buy a new one. Mother dearest took mine and destroyed it. It's not like I'll need it for writing up reports or anything. No, not at all. That means I'll need money, of which I have an absolute basic allowance that mother has been forced to send by the courts. And I know she's doing it begrudgingly. It's enough for basic necessities, but no luxuries. I'll need a job, hopefully, one where they don't care about your background. The rest of the night was silent and I slept.

Something about all of this felt off. Like I had done it once before. What was it called...? Déjà vu?

The following day I had to leave extremely early due to what rumors had been calling 'mental shutdowns,' one of the victims affected being a conductor whose train car slammed into one of the transfer stations I had to go through, so I needed to have a detour. It took an extra hour to get there. It was as if God wanted to punish me further as it started to rain and I didn't even have an umbrella. THAT will make me look good. Exiting the station, I took shelter under an awning. As I did, a girl wearing a white hoodie took shelter there as well. As she lowered her hood, I felt some kind of familiarity with her. But what was it? She did look cute though.

"Hi," I say timidly.

"Hi," she returns the same casual greeting and spots the second-year markings on my collar. "I haven't seen you before despite being a second year."

"I'm a transfer student this year. My name is-." Before I could say my name, a car pulled up with a short honk.

The man in the driver's seat rolled down the passenger-side window. He looked at the girl and asks, "Do you need a ride? You'll be late."

I felt an icy grip grab my brain and suddenly I found myself in a dark room. Strapped to a chair was the same man, but he looked older. "Hello, Kamoshida-sensei. It's been a while, hasn't it?" an older me asks.

"You little shit! What did you do to me?!" Kamoshida yelled out.

I looked around me to see many instruments that promised nothing but pain for the person on the receiving end of it. "Not even going to ask what I've been up to for the last ten years? Well, I'll tell you." I picked up a pair of pliers. "You know, I should thank you."

"Thank me, for what!? I got you expelled!"

"Yes, you did. And do you know what I did? I immediately ran to the US Embassy and plead for asylum. Surprisingly, they accepted after looking at my case that you were so keen on spreading to everyone with a heaping dose of rumor. Got put state-side for a year before joining the Army early. Not like I had anywhere else to go, you saw to that on this side of the ocean. Turns out the Army saw I was really good with infiltration and information gathering and took me to Army Intelligence. I got noticed and became a Company Man with the CIA. And do you know what? They pay really well." I saw the fear creep onto his face. "That's right, I'm a spook."

"What are you going to do to me?" Kamoshida asked in pure terror.

I set down the pliers and picked up a heavy sandbag attached to the end of a rope. "Ever see Casino Royale?" Kamoshida paled. "Yeah, that. Think of it as your penance for your crimes that you got away with."

"You'll never get away with this! The people that back me-!"

"Are done with you. You've become a liability. You know, it's Spy Craft 101: convince the organization that your target is a part of that they're better off without them as they're a liability. Either they'll deal with you themselves or they'll let whoever brought them the information deal with them. Though, I guess it does help when you fabricate footage of you wanting to go public with your organization's misdeeds." He looked shocked. "You would be amazed what you can do with video and audio editing software and an afternoon." I leaned down so I was right in his face and patted his cheek. "No one's coming for you."

I snapped back to where I was before and Kamoshida was letting the girl into his car. Her name came to me: Ann. I knew her. "You want a ride too?" Kamoshida offered. Though, I could feel an aura of 'say no' radiating off of him. I waved him off. As I did, he rolled up the window and drove off. I fell against the window and contemplated everything that had just been revealed to me and what it implied.

I remembered everything. Dying in combat and being confronted by that girl in blue. Going back in time back to where my misadventures all began in Tokyo. I clenched my fist. This time would be different.

XxXxXxX

[Timeskip/preview]

In "spy school" the first thing you learn is information is king. No matter how small, how insignificant. It could mean the difference between gaining an "in" with your target, or just learning that they're left-handed.

"What can you tell me about the people that scammed you?" I ask the student. We stood on the landing right before the school's roof.

"What? So, you can blackmail me too?" the student accused.

"No, so that they can be stopped. Everyone I've spoken with is too deep into the scam to be implicated in drug running. You're the only one who's 'new' in the game."

He sighed before continuing. "I was brought in by a friend. Said that I can make a lot of money really quick." He messed with his hands a bit, uncomfortable on how he should continue. "I've been seeing this girl, and she has some expensive tastes; I really want to make it work so..."

I held up my hand. "I get it. What can you tell me about the guys, what they were wearing? Things like that."

"The guy looked like he was wearing one of those floral, Hawaiian shirts. You know the ones, the tacky ones?" I nod. "The guys also had chains as well as rings."

"Gold?"

"And platinum. They also like wearing sunglasses even at night." So, they like to hide their identity.

"They give you any names? Anything to call them by? An organization?"

"No, nothing. All they said is that if I don't pay up then their boss would do things to me."

"Do they have an area they like to skulk around?"

"Skulk?" the student asked legitimately confused.

I shrug. "You know, like hanging around?"

"Oh! You know the alley in Shibuya where the one gym is?" I knew the place. I looked into getting a membership once but it was too pricey. Training with Morgana and doing midnight runs would have to suffice. And it was free. I nod. "That's where they force us to go to take our money and to bring in new recruits." He looked down at his feet. "I've seen many of our fellow students walk in and a few that never came back."

"They have names?" He nods. I hand him my number. "Text them to me along with their descriptions."

"I'll need some time. One I haven't seen since first-year."

"Take your time, when you have one of them in mind, just text me." He nodded.

I start to walk away, hearing the bell ring. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because somebody has to." Not to mentioned I'm being blackmailed. I start to walk away and pull out my phone and bring up the conversation with Mokoto. "We need to talk after school, it's about the thing you wanted us to look into."

There were three dots that said that she was responded. "Meet me in the student council room after classes let out. There's no meeting today."

The rest of class continued without anything to really note. Class let out and Ryuji, Ann, and I met by my desk. "Would either of you have access to a low-profile digital camera?" I ask. "Around the size of a bifold or trifold leather wallet?"

"I think my mom has one," Ryuji answers.

"Do you think you can get her to let you borrow it for an afternoon?"

"Sure. What for?"

"I'll tell you after I meet with our little stalker friend." Ryuji nodded in acknowledgment.

I then turn to Ann. "With your modeling stuff, you wouldn't happen to get any discounts on fashion, would you?"

"Yeah. I have to look my best for prospective clients."

"Do you think you may be able to extend that discount to men's fashion? Specifically suits?"

She gave me a slanted look. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I have a job interview in my future and need one in a specific style."

She sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

I stood up with a grunt. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to."

I made my way upstairs to the student council room. I had only been in here twice before. It was all very clean. Inside, Makoto was already waiting. "What did you want to talk about?"

Working an asset is a game of give and take. Every interaction is intricately calculated. Ask for too much and your asset will stall, try to buy for time, or outright betray you. This goes the opposite way when you're the asset. You have to convince your handler that what you want is in their best interests to achieve their goals.

"I need more information," I say plainly.

"I said it before, I gave you the information that you need to know. If you can't do this, then I will have no other choice to hand over that recording to-."

"I will still do the job, but I need more information," I reiterate as I sit down across from her. "In case you forgot, the target is the head of a crime family. The only thing is, we don't know how far up the food chain the boss is. From what I've been able to figure out the guys involved in the scam camp out in the Shibuya area." I got an idea. "Your sister works with law enforcement, right?"

"Yes? Where are you going with this?"

"If I got you pictures of those involved, do you think you can maybe use your sister's resources to find out who their boss is?"

She got smug all of a sudden. "If I did that, I'd be doing all of the work."

"How about finding out what local gang is circling in on the area? You have to give me something." She paused for a moment in thought. "Think about it. If you get me arrested or expelled, your student scammer issue keeps going on and you're back to square one. By giving me the information I need, I can figure out what we need to do."

She thought it over. "I'll look into it tonight. But in return, you have to bring me in. No more sitting on the sidelines."

I thought it over though I already knew what I had in mind. "How about a date tomorrow?"

"A-a d-date!?" she sputtered.

"Yeah. Do you know the little crepe shop with outdoor seating in Shibuya? Meet me there tomorrow after class and wear something casual, and a wig. I'll be doing the same." Without saying anything more, I walked out with a smirk.

The next day, class went on as usual. In my bag, I carried a change of clothes. Nothing super special, but it wasn't something I really liked either. Nothing that I would be caught in again (except maybe the jeans and shoes as they were common enough). I also got my hands on some hair mousse as well and brought that. After class, I excused myself to the boy's locker room and quickly changed and applied said mousse. I pulled out a set of aviator-style sunglasses and put them on. Outside Ryuji was waiting for me. "So, how do I look?"

"Woah!" Ryuji replied. He was actually impressed. "You look like a totally different person."

"That's kind of the point if we're caught peeping," I reply dryly as I shift my bag slightly and remove the sunglasses. Morgana probably didn't like the fact that he was being shuffled around but didn't say anything. "You got the camera?"

He opened his bag and pulled it out then handed it to me. "It's a nice camera. Mom's work got it for her several year anniversaries working in her department." I looked it over, it was a nice, compact model. It would work perfectly for remaining inconspicuous. "Do you promise not to break it?"

"If for some reason it gets broken, I'll replace it out of pocket," I reassure him. "Did Ann get Makoto a wig?"

"Yeah, she's a comical redhead."

"She's not going to be too happy about that and it will play hell with blending in," I mutter.

"Welp, not much you can do about it now," Ryuji brushed the comment off. "Have fun, lover-boy!" he laughed.

"Right..." I trail as I put my sunglasses back on and walk out of the school.

The thing with covert ops is that a mass majority of it isn't engaging in some James Bond-style firefight or driving a tank down the street, running over your pursuers – though that has happened before – it's all about gathering your target's movements before you get in a shootout. It can also be very boring.

I watched the alleyway from the corner table at the little crepe shop. It had outdoor seating and Makoto and I sat at the closest table to the pedestrian walkway which gave a relatively good look at the alleyway. Anyone who turned down that alley got their picture taken candidly as the camera sat on the table pointed that way and my hand sat on top of the camera casually, tapping the shutter button with no movement that could be seen at that distance.

"How long do we have to sit here?" Makoto asked while scratching the back of her neck. The material of the wig clearly wasn't comfortable.

"Unfortunately, until we start recognizing other students, then we know who our guys are," I respond as another person walks down the alley. "That's why I invited you along this little... adventure."

"Some kind of adventure," she muttered.

"Well, if you want to know PT modus operando, the first thing you know is that we research the people that we're requested to change the hearts of. After all, we don't want to be going after someone that someone has a grudge against."

"Like with Kamoshida?"

"Literally everyone had a justifiable grudge against him. You as well but you won't admit it. As did Madarame's former students sans Yusuke, but he's always had a different way of expressing himself to others, to begin with."

"He's pretty unreadable," Makoto admitted.

"My main reason for being this careful are the rumors about me at school and how easily they spread like wildfire when Kamoshida blackmailed Mishima to release my information despite being told that it would be kept on the down-low by Kobayakawa so long as I kept a low profile."

Makoto looked down at the table at that comment. "I'm sorry about that."

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"No, but I didn't do anything to stop it either."

"In life, there are a lot of things that you can have regrets over, it's best to learn from the things that you can and move on."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "If you don't mind me asking, of all the rumors are any of them true?"

"From a legal standpoint, yes I have assaulted someone."

"A legal standpoint?" she asked, implying wanting me to clarify it.

I nodded. "This year gave us an early spring," I commented. "In February I had witnessed a woman being assaulted by a man. I remember very little about him other than he was tall, dressed relatively well, and reeked of liquor. He was trying to force a woman into a cab with him. She screamed out asking for help. At the same time, two instincts were screaming out at me. The first said 'do not get involved,' the other said 'help her.' And so, I pushed him away from her. He stumbled and fell, his own hand slapping his nose causing a nosebleed. The police showed up and they sided with him and I was arrested. The woman testified against me. Bitch couldn't even look me in the eye when she lied." I laughed realizing something in total hindsight. "I should have live-streamed it or had my phone on speaker with a trusted friend, or my mom."

"How come?"

"I've been basically disowned by her. Thanks to her spreading the word around, all my extended family on my mother's side think I'm some kind of sociopath that needs to be locked away. At least if had I had that phone call going with her, she would have sided with me despite still losing."

There was an awkward silence as I continued to watch down the alley. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well fuck her. At least you know why I have such an issue with authority figures," I laugh.

"There's one of the students!" Mokoto whisper-shouts and starts to point.

I grab her hand attempting to make it look like PDA, which did make her blush. "Don't point. We don't want to tip them off." I proceeded to release her hand. "Describe them."

"Taller boy wearing our uniform." I spot him immediately and take a picture. He turns down the alley, pulls an envelope out, and hands it to a man wearing a tacky Hawaiian shirt. He opened the packet and inspected the wad of yen and shooed off the student who walked out nervously. The entire time I was snapping pictures of this interaction.

"I think we have our way to find our mysterious mafioso. The money has to make its way to him somehow," I clarified. I turned to Makoto. "Speaking of which, did you find out which gang family runs this area?"

"Not really." I raised an eyebrow. Before I could ask, she continued. "The entire area is under the influence of the Kanjiro family; however, this also includes other areas in Tokyo as well. There's one family that's currently only in the Shibuya area and they've been taken over by a newcomer. Completely unknown and the boss of this family hasn't revealed himself yet."

"Seems strange," I wonder aloud. "Usually, these types like to know who is encroaching on their territory. I'd be willing to bet someone in the outbound family knows." Perhaps I could use this. Nothing better than a good gang war to thin out both sides. "Which also means that the police don't know who."

"Where does that leave us? Did we do all this for nothing?"

I shook my head. "No, not nothing." I tapped the camera. "Now we know who the lackies are. Follow the lackies, you find the boss."

I got an idea, and my lack of a good poker face at this age sort of gave it away. "Oh, no. I don't like that look," she groaned.

"What look?" I feigned innocence.

"I've seen that look before from Sakamoto-san, it never brings anything good."

Creating a tracking device isn't as hard as it sounds. You don't need to have master-level soldering skills to create your own little tracking bug. With the advent of more compact cellphones came more compact parts. Intelligence agencies would have killed for this level of tech during the Cold War. Get your hands on a soon-to-be discarded smartphone and remove the GPS locator. And solder it in the place of a much more easily disposable phone. You get a good return on investment and it is easily replaced if lost. From there, use the "track my phone" function of the phone.

I look over my handiwork of a tracker and am pleased with it. Small magnets would keep it attached to the steel body of a car. If there was one thing I knew about these mafia types, is that they didn't travel like the 'plebians' and preferred private transport, even if they were low level. Just that mentality thinking you're better than everyone else.

I showed it to Morgana. "It appears our intrepid leader once again creates another fine piece of technology," he praised. "So, how does it work?"

I brought up the second-hand laptop and opened the "find my device" site with the burner credentials linking to one of those one-time-use emails. "I press 'find my device' and there we go."

"That seems too easy," Morgana said skeptically.

"Well, a lot of spy gadgets aren't all that complex." I slipped up.

"What do spies have to do with you being a Phantom Thief?"

"What are spies but thieves that have to go to the place they robbed the next day and pretend they know nothing, and for a government paycheck?" I point out. "Point being, that creating the tracker isn't difficult, it's deploying it that's going to be tough."

"What do you mean?"

I thought for a few minutes. I had an idea. "I'm going to need to go to work tonight at Lala's bar."

Planting a bug or tracking device is an art in and of itself. You have to make whatever you're doing look natural. Public intoxication is one such excuse, though you shouldn't be intoxicated. Faking that you're intoxicated goes beyond the slurred speech. You have to walk a certain way and move your head and line of sight a certain way to not draw attention. Then, when your target tags you as not a threat, that's when you strike.

I walked out off the street in Shibuya and towards the alley. Morgana nodded signaling that the two men were there. I walked down the alley faking a drunken stumble. They were leaning against the car. It looked to be an import. I looked out across the street and called out, "You lecherous slut!" as I point in the same direction. I stumble against the car. "That's right. I see you, you whore!" Seeing where I was pointing, they quickly turned to look. "How dare you cheat on me with my brother!" I was close enough where they could smell the booze wafting off of me.

I quickly slip the tracker under the rear wheel well and made sure the magnets stuck. "Who are you pointing at?" one asked, clearly annoyed that they weren't going to get free entertainment.

"What? You don't see her?" I ask feigning confusion. I blink over exaggeratedly. "She's clearly right-," I trail. "-there." I tilt my head in confusion. "I could have sworn she was over there."

"Get outta here, you drunkard!" one of them pushed me off of the car. I let myself fall to the ground and the duo laughed before getting in their car and drove off. As soon as they were out of sight, I pulled out my phone and brought up the 'find my phone' app. It was already tracking the car. I quickly stood up, walked normally back to the station, and made my way back to Le Blanc. The car made a couple of stops and finally stopped a couple of kilometers north and stayed there for several hours. I looked at a map online and found the area.

"So, did you find your mafia boss?" Morgana asked.

"Yes, and no. We know the general area, but we still don't know who he is." I picked up my phone and texted the group. "Ann, were you able to get in contact with your clothing people?"

"Yeah, they said that they could give me a 40% discount."

I sent her a link. "Get me that, I'll pay you back. Can you get it by tomorrow?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"What are you thinking?" Yusuke asked.

"I'm thinking I have a first impression I need to make," I reply.

Making a gun is not that difficult. In fact, it's very easy. You can make one out of a pipe and a nail. There's a reason some call a slam-fire shotgun an "angry pipe." Making a more complex gun is more challenging and there are varying factors as to how it can be completed. Take, for example, the Luty open-bolt submachine gun. It was forged out of metal scraps in a garage. Or the AK-47 made out of a shovel. Yes, that actually happened. With the advent of 3D printers making your own private firearm has never been easier. Contrary to popular belief, you cannot print a whole gun; only the lower receiver and some accessories can be. Depending on what you're doing though, you can either make a lower of a manufactured firearm or make your own.

I removed the Glock 17 lower from the printing plate and inspected it. A perfect print. I had covered my tracks well. "Aren't actual guns illegal here?" Morgana asked.

"Very. Though on a technically if you have it disassembled, you're allegedly allowed to own that," I shrug.

"The files you downloaded; won't they track you?"

"Nah, I used TOR and a VPN on top of it just to be safe."

"How's that going to protect you?"

I pulled out the rest of the parts I needed for this janky-homemade Glock. Iwai had been immensely helpful in getting the parts. Turns out working for a criminal syndicate allows some doors to be opened with foreign arms dealers. "Back in the early days of the internet, spies needed a way to talk back with home base to get orders, pass along information, et cetera. So, the spies went to the Navy and DARPA and they developed this little protocol called TOR. Now, you can't have just your spies and agents behind enemy lines talking all by themselves, that would be too obvious. So, they release it for free to the wider internet. The best way to hide is in plain sight."

"Why do you keep talking about spies."

I think for a while, feigning thoughts. I already knew the reason. I've known for months. "Maybe in a past life I was a spy, that's why I'm so interested in it," I shrug.

"But why do you need an actual gun?"

"Well, I have to make a good impression on our target."

"Remind me again why you have to get that close to him?"

"We know little about him. All we know is that he's a mafioso and is a dick."

"Well, you better be careful," Morgana warned.

I finished assembling the firearm and racked the slide. "I intend to. Remember, tell no one."

"You're the leader," Morgana said uneasily. I hadn't steered him wrong yet, so while he had the right to be uneasy, he didn't doubt him.

XxXxXxX

"Does everyone remember the plan?" I ask.

They nodded. "You look absolutely stunning," Yusuke complimented my attire. It was a classic western suit and tie. It was high-end thanks to Ann's connections. I patted my side and felt the familiar solid mass of my newly printed Glock.

"Thanks." I turned to Makoto. "Are you sure you're alright with this? This is your last chance to back out."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Makoto asks.

"Yes."

"Then I'm fine going along with it."

I turn to the group. "No matter what happens, follow my lead. I mean it. Once I get in character, I cannot leave it until this operation is complete." The remaining Phantom Thieves nod. "Alright, let's go."

As a spy, you accept that your job comes with risks. You know that one single slip-up may be the difference between a successful mission or another agent joining the Wall in anonymity. Assets don't always accept the risks or don't understand them as well as you may. Depending on your attachments to the assets, it may determine how you approach the mission.

Everything was going according to plan. Makoto got in a fight with the two low-level Mafiosos and got taken away, then Ryuji and company followed in a taxi. I followed in a completely separate taxi. I waited for a storefront away and gave them five minutes. Seeing that it was time, I psyched myself up and cleared my throat, and walked down the stairs. Slowly. Methodically. I hear the simulated aperture of a camera go off. He was attempting to blackmail them.

"Oh, damn, I got booze and cigs in the shot! Maybe some drugs too?" the man said.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and removed the aviators. "I would appreciate you not blackmailing my employees," I say with a Russian-tinged accent.

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Sergei." He squinted as he tried to see how I was Eastern Blok. "Russian on my father's side, Japanese on my mother's but I take more after my mother," I explain.

"I see that. But why are you here?"

I walked around and grabbed one of the glasses of wine and took a sip. God awful. I had tasted better toilet wine when I did an operation that required me to be a cellmate to a known terrorist for a month. "Decent year, but this specific brand is мусор... trash." I set it down. I pick up one of the cigars and smell it. "These though are excellent. Cuban, right?" He nodded.

"You still haven't-," he tried to interject.

"They're under the employ of my... company. And I take great strides to ensure my employee's safety. It's too much of a hassle to get new people up to speed, Знаешь?"

He scoffed. "You employ high schoolers?"

"Don't you do the same, друг?" I retort calmly. "Lots of Shujin Academy students said to be a part of your little... organization. Some in our industry think that they have a recruiter there," I chuckle.

"And you're also recruiting from the same school. You certainly seem young; do you go there too?" he tried to pry.

"I may. I may not. My father has brought me into the family business," I shrug off the question. "Your little scheme and attempted blackmail are bad for бизнес."

"Oh? And what business would that be?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Import/export," I say simply. "Both of the legal and the... not so much."

"Legal?" he asked with genuine surprise.

"You'd be surprised how many people like a taste of the Motherland. Докторская колбаса is in surprisingly high demand." He looked at me in confusion. "A spiced meat product not unlike American bologna or German-style Braunschweiger in consistency. бабушка says that it was better under Stalin than when Krushiv forced them to make changes to the recipe to make it cheaper, but since I never had it, I'll have to take her word for it," I shrug. "But what to do with you?"

"Do with me?"

"You've threatened my family's business and my employees. We can't have that," I say darkly. "Do you have that picture on a dead man's switch?" I pull out the Glock and rack it. The previously chambered round fell to the ground with a small metallic 'ting' sound and the mechanical sound of the pistol racking drew everyone's attention to me. "Nine-millimeter luger, 124 grain, full metal jacket. We're beneath the street so no one's bound to hear the shots. After all, this is a nightclub."

"I'll send it!" the overweight man sputtered out.

"Then I kill you."

"The police and my organization! They'll hunt you down!"

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Not many people want to ебать with the Russian mafia."

To be continued...?

XxXxXxX

That's all I have for this one. And to break the cliffhanger at the end, no he doesn't shoot Kaneshiro. I just couldn't figure out the best way of ending this pilot idea solidly and went with the cliffhanger there. For many of you, especially if you had cable TV during the early 2000s, may notice the same style that those centered narrations are done in the same way that Burn Notice did theirs. I absolutely love that show and if you're interested, it is on Hulu to watch. But yeah, to summarize: the entire idea of this story is that Akira died as a spy after his first time around in the P5 plot got convoluted and went off the rails and comes back with that knowledge to the very beginning of his adventure in Tokyo. I figure that with a "spy's mind" we might get an interesting adventure out of this idea. The closest story that I've seen that remotely uses this concept is a story called "Crimson" by Dowdz (id: 12546921) who currently appears to be on an indefinite hiatus due to real-life stuff (and congrats to him for that real-life stuff if he finds this pilot). I really hope this guy does update that fic because it's pretty good.

I'm not entirely sure how I want to do this idea justice though. So, this will remain another idea on the backburner indefinitely. As for stuff I'm doing in real life I recently completed Ace Combat 5: The Unsung War through emulation, now to go back to either Ace Combat 4 or Ace Combat Zero to work on that series (or complete Project Wingman). One recent game completion that I really happy about is that the developers of RPCS3 figured out why Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots kept freezing and dying randomly and released a patch for that, so I finally was able to get past the final mission in the game, face Screaming Mantis and Liquid Ocelot and complete the game. Damn, it's a good game. Frames on emulation kept getting dropped, but hey at least I completed the game and can say that I have completed it in roughly 21 hours watching all cutscenes as I hadn't played it before. Maybe there will be a Metal Gear-oriented fic sometime in the future, who knows?

But what's next for me in terms of more stories? I've got 2 ideas that I got floating around in my head that I came up with recently that involve The Elder Scrolls and Metro that are both crossovers, so I'll have to see how those go. There are also a few others that I have in mind that are both older (from a few years ago) as well as some that are a bit newer that I have yet to explore. We'll have to see how those go. But I'll see you next time in whatever I decide to put out next.