Ch 43
V 1.5
A/N 1: To make the funeral in this chapter truly epic, there is a soundtrack song you can listen to while you read that section of the chapter. The song is titled Zack Hemsey - "Vengeance (Instrumental)" on YouTube. Open another tab or window, plug that title into the YouTube search field, make sure to select the one posted by Zack Hemsey himself, and then pause it. There will be time hacks at the end of paragraphs to show what part of the song is playing at that point of the scene. Here is the list of hacks so you know what to look for – (0:00, 0:22, 2:40, 4:44, 6:08. 6:18). Enjoy!
Voron Technical Group (Nikolai's Company)
Chumphon Airport,
Chumphon Province, Thailand
early morning
(second day after pirate raid)
Keitaro was not an expert in reading people's minds, but he was rather good at reading the expressions on their faces. Which was why he had a good idea on what Seta was thinking as he lay propped up on a cot absorbing the briefing the young ronin and the older British vet had given him regarding the intel they had extracted from the Russian pedophile. Seta had hardly blinked an eye upon hearing that the human trafficker middleman was now dead, but hearing what he had been involved in and where Sarah very probably was now had caused him to go silent. Keitaro could see Seta's eyes flicking back and forth as he considered the information before they finally fixed on him. Upon seeing regret, fear and despair form on his face, the younger Japanese knew what his sensei was about to say and spoke first.
"I would have done it anyway, Seta-sensei. Even if I had not made that promise, I would have still gone after Sarah-chan. And I still plan to go after her now." Keitaro could see Seta's eyes widen.
"Keitaro-kun, this is too much for you to do. Chasing slavers is bad enough, Roanapur is beyond that. It's not a city, it's a level of Hell on Earth." The ronin could see that his mentor meant every word that he said, not that it made much difference. "Going into Roanapur isn't just dangerous, it's suicide."
"It was part of my job to protect Sarah-chan and I failed. It's my fault she got taken in the first place. If I had kept a better eye on her on her trip to the port, that punk kid wouldn't have seen her and tried to snatch her. The raid was revenge for me breaking his jaw getting her back." Keitaro's head bowed as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders, which is why he was shocked when Seta grabbed his arm and yanked him forward.
"Don't be a fucking idiot, Keitaro! I knew Sarah was a brat that could barely be controlled, and I brought her to Thailand anyway! I was the one that let her go on the trip to the port when I knew that she hardly listened to what you said! And I screwed up when I didn't realize that Yuri was skiving off on the work and left you to watch her when you were doing all the work anyway! We all fucked up here, Urashima, this is my expedition and my daughter, so if it's anyone fault that this happened it's mine!" The grief in Seta's face intensified. "A little girl is in the hands of fucking pirates and slavers, and if she's very lucky she's already dead!" The wounded man fell backwards against his pillow, tears forming on his face. "I can't ask you to go to a certain death Keitaro!"
"You're not asking me, Seta-sensei, not anymore." Keitaro could see Seta's eyes harden.
"And if I withdraw all support from you? If I pull all my favors in and make sure no one will help you, like Gaz and Nikolai?"
"Then I'll make my own way. I've made up my mind." Keitaro locked eyes with his mentor.
Seta opened his mouth to speak again, but suddenly stilled. The look in his protégé's eyes was one that he had seen only once before in his life; when Seta had brought back a traumatized Haruka to Granny Hina after their own school expedition.
Seta thought he had seen almost every negative expression on a person's face, but nothing in his life had terrified Seta much as the glare of restrained fury from a short elderly woman; it was in that moment that the Todai grad student had realized why Hina Urashima had been known as the Demon of Hinata. He was sure he had been only a moment away from being torn apart; it was almost a relief that Hina instead decided to run Seta through an abbreviated training course that would have made Russian Spetsnaz wince. And now the older Todai graduate was seeing that look again on the woman's grandson, the only difference being that he was only seeing the emotion, and not the target of it… yet. In that moment, Seta decided he did not want to be the recipient of that wrath again.
Bowing his head, Seta sighed heavily. After a long moment, he raised his head and turned toward Gaz. "What will you need to get into Roanapur?
Gaz hesitated for a few seconds before he finally spoke. "I think what my team did years ago can be done again. A two man recce element to enter town and contact sources, scout the probable locations. I can talk to Nikolai and see if he knows people that we can get intel from, one way or the other. Once we get some leads, we can work it from there. I don't think Nik himself can come with us, but he can do support from out of town. Once we know if Sarah is even in Roanapur, and where she is located, then we can start planning her retrieval and our exfil. Keep in mind, everyone in that Gods-forsaken town is wary and paranoid, it's the only way to survive operating there. There is a very good chance that they'll light us up just for asking the wrong questions. We'll have to operate under jungleball rules; survival of the fittest." Gaz looked from the older man to the younger one. "One problem I can see right now is Keitaro's cover in town. Our previous op had us pretending to be guns for hire, and as skilled as he is, Keitaro doesn't look like a merc. He can pass as a copper, but he too young to look like a military vet, and not dirty and desperate like a street rat soldier, which is what most gunmen are in Southeast Asia."
"You said I can pass as a policeman, what if I did the complete opposite?" Keitaro asked. "What if I was involved in organized crime, one of the Yakuza groups?"
"Yakuza?! Do you know what you're talking about?! How are you going to pass as one of them!?" Gaz was shocked by the question, as the infamous Japanese criminal groups were very well known, and very distinctive. This was nothing compared to what the young ronin did next.
"Like this." Straightening up (not that he had much to do so from the semi-relaxed position he had been standing in), the slightly curious look on Keitaro's face faded and became one of arrogance and confidence. His shoulders went back, his hands moved from his sides to lightly clasped in front of his waist, his feet spread so they were shoulder width apart and his head tilted slightly to the side. If he had been wearing an expensive suit instead of his tropical shirt and slacks, his transformation to upcoming young Yakuza kobun would have been complete.
"How the hell do you know what a Yak soldier looks like?" While still the SAS, Gaz had gone to Japan and done some cross-training with the Public Security Intelligence Agency, which was in charge of domestic security. As PSIA was charged with dealing with organized crime groups, especially those with overseas ties, Gaz and his fellow troopers had gone on some surveillance runs against some Yakuza and Korean criminal groups.
"I met some when I was younger. They were very polite to my granny and me." They were more than polite; the younger kobuns nearly threw out their backs bowing deeply and repeatedly when Keitaro and Granny Hina had come across them in a restaurant in Chiba across Tokyo Bay from Hinata City. The kumicho had bowed deeply as well, calling Hina oba-sama and smiling, abet with some strain, when Hina pinched him on the cheek and called him 'Deki-kun'.
"Could that work? Could you two pass as a Yakuza scout and his bodyguard looking for business contacts in Roanapur?" Seta asked, pushing himself to sit up straighter on his cot.
"Yeah. We're going to have to throw around some serious money and act like total bastards while we're there, though." Here Gaz looked toward Keitaro. "You can NOT let anyone push you around in Roanapur, they will eat you alive. And given some of the things I saw when I was there, that may be literal."
"I understand. I will do what I have to." Keitaro looked back toward his boss. "Seta-sensei, I'm sorry it came to this."
"Not as much as I am." Seta grumbled. "Gaz, you have a problem using the money you took from Popov?"
"Not at all. I've learned the hard way that blood money tends to leave it's mark on people. I have enough to get by even if I didn't do PMC work; I don't need more." Gaz replied.
"Very well. Call Nikolai back in here, we're going to need him to get back to Koh Samui, and after than to get the supplies and arrange for transport to Roanapur. I'll stay with him, you and Keitaro-kun return to the island and pick up everything and everyone you can." Seta started to lean back but stopped at the next question.
"What about Yuri?" Gaz's question caused everyone's head to bow in sorrow; the Russian merc had insisted on being left on the island, and had not been expected to survive through the night. Nyamo and Gidget had stayed behind as well of their own volition, with instructions to run and hide if any more pirates or police arrived on the island. To the other men's surprise, it was Keitaro who answered.
"I talked to Yuri-san before we left. I know what he wants done."
Koh Tao
Lookout Beach
Day after pirate raid
One hour before daybreak
"We don't have to do things this way, Yuri-san. You can still change your mind and let us take you with us."
Keitaro was down on one knee next to the wounded Russian merc, who was laying on his sleeping bag and propped into a sitting position against a large boulder on the beach, a floodlight torch between them. In fact, it was the very boulder he would previously sit on in days past to smoke and watch the sun rise. Presumably he was planning to do so again in spite of his wounds, his only concession being that the cigarette hanging from his lips was unlit, both out of respect to Keitaro being so close to him, and the fact that the smoke was aggravating the chest wound he had.
"It's better this way, Ronin. I've had enough of this life. I don't want to spend it as a cripple, depending on others." His voice rasping, Yuri pulled his cigarette from his mouth and coughed into a rag, one that was already halfway soaked with blood.
"There is always something better in life, Yuri-san. You shouldn't just give up." Keitaro watched as Yuri wiped his mouth before he looked up at the other man.
"You're still a youngster, you still have optimism, something to look forward to. Like those two girlfriends of yours." Yuri smirked as a blush formed on Keitaro's face before continuing. "But I've seen and done too much, I have too much blood on my hands and on my soul. I don't have anything else to look forward to, and the memories of the bad outweigh all the good I have done. It is time to face the long night, and if I'm fortunate I won't have to face those memories ever again."
"Letting yourself die is the easy way out, Yuri-san. You are only betraying yourself and those that believe in you when you stop fighting." The sadness on Keitaro's face had shifted to that of faint disapproval.
Yuri snorted. "My whole life has been marked by betrayal, Ronin. Why stop now?" Seeing that the look on Keitaro's face had not changed, he continued. "I have seen things you would not believe. I have seen the men of my Spetsnaz unit, men I would call blood brothers, loot and burn villages, rape and murder civilians, because they could. I watched my general sell nuclear weapons like they were rifles filched from the base armory. I saw my captain trigger one of those weapons in a city in the Middle East, wiping out half a million people, killing 30,000 American troops in the blink of an eye. And to my shame, it was only when my captain was about stage a terrorist attack in a Russian airport, killing unarmed civilians and blaming Americans so as to start a war that would have killed millions, that is when I broke." Coughing into his rag again, Yuri finally lit his cigarette, taking a deep drag and coughing before speaking again. "Just as Makarov was about step out of that elevator and slaughter fellow Russians, I shot him in the back of the head, shot the other two gunmen, grabbed the patsy they were going to blame for all this, and ran like hell. I became the most hated man in Russia that day. All those memories are in my head, and I keep seeing them every night. And no matter how much vodka I drank, or drugs I used, or women I fucked, those memories are still there. But once I die, those memories will finally be gone, like tears in rain. And the world will be better off for it."
Keitaro spoke after a few moments of silence. "People need to know these things, Yuri-san, it's the only way to stop them."
Giving a short laugh that became a cough, Yuri took another drag. "People already know this is going on, as long as it doesn't affect them they don't give a shit. Millions can be slaughtered in Africa, and the industrialized countries don't care. But as soon as something threatens to raise the price of oil, the fucking West jumps in and screws things up and walks away again. And it's always the poor mudak on the ground that suffers and bleeds, not the fat pizda making money back home." The Russian merc gestured to the side. "Bring my pack over here, would you?"
Once Keitaro pulled the knapsack containing what was left of the man's belongings, Yuri dug through it for a few moments before pulling out a sheathed knife and a small cloth bag suspended from a cord. Flipping the cord around his neck, the bag hung around his neck at about mid-chest level.
"Here, Ronin. A memento to remember me by." Yuri passed the knife to Keitaro, who took it and stared at it for a long moment before looking back at the Russian. "Go ahead, take it out, you don't need to feed it blood." Yuri was referring to the false legend of the Gurkas, who supposedly could not unsheathe their infamous kukri knives without giving it blood to drink.
Unsnapping the leather sheath, Keitaro drew the knife. A blackened blade extended from the hard plastized rubber handle, the razor sharp edge the only part that gleamed brightly. Tilting the blade, the young ronin could see Cyrillic script on the metal, the only Western lettering the word 'Kizlyar'.
"I was given that knife when I completed Spetsnaz training, it's saved my life I don't know how many times. Maybe it can help you in the future, gods know you will probably need it in this fucking hellhole. But do me a favor, will you? If you find that cocky little shit from town, cut his balls off with it." Seeing Keitaro's eyes widen, Yuri chuckled. "Or kick the crap out of him, whatever. But you need to remember one thing. If that pizda did have something to do with the raid and Sarah being taken, that makes him hostis humani generis." The younger man frowned; he recognized the words as Latin, but not what they meant. "It means 'enemy of mankind'. It first applied to pirates, but then it applied to slavers as well. Pirates and slavers are threats to all, therefore any government can seize and punish them even if their people were not the victims. And in this cesspool, do you really think the Thai government are going to be able to do anything about it?" Here Keitaro silently shook his head; he had seen proof of that already with the dead dirty Thai cop.
Seeing his cigarette was almost finished, Yuri lit a new one from the old butt before looking back at Keitaro. "What you have to do to get Sarah back, do it. These aren't people anymore, they're rabid animals. They operate outside the law, they aren't protected by it anymore. Remember, no mercy." Here Yuri coughed again, sounding both amused and pained until he finally was able to calm down. "That reminds me of my captain's last words, right before he was going kill hundreds of civilians. He wanted us to only speak English so the Americans would be blamed, so just before the elevator reached the lobby he said, 'Remember, no Russian'. I don't know why, but those words finally caused me to snap. Years too late, but finally I ended that mad dog's life."
After a few moments of watching the Russian smoke, Keitaro spoke. "What do you want us to do when we come back, Yuri-san?" Unspoken in that question was the fact that Yuri would very probably be dead when Gaz and Keitaro would return, if they came back at all. Nyamo and Gidget had firm instructions to leave on the young girl's boat if the two other contractors did not return in two days.
Yuri puffed on his cigarette for a moment. "You will be dragging off the dead pirates in that boat when you leave, yes?" It was a rhetorical question; throughout the night the bodies had been piled into the largest of the pirate speedboats and soaked in both diesel and gasoline. The plan was to tow the boat behind their own until they reached the ocean current leading into the Gulf of Thailand then lighting the boat on fire, leaving it to burn and sink into the sea. Seeing the younger man nod, the Russian continued. "If you don't make it back don't worry, I'll wind up giving the beach crabs a good meal." Keitaro cringed but all Yuri did was smirk. "Tell Nyamo to zip me up in my sleeping bag here and have her and Gidget drag me into the water with a rope when the tide is going out. The sea will do the rest."
"And if we do come back?" Yuri shook another cigarette from his pack before frowning slightly; he had less than half a pack left.
"When I was young the only book we had on my collective farm beside stupid communist propaganda was one of stories of the old Vikings, how they came and ruled over the local tribes because they were too busy fighting and killing each other. The Vikings story was that they were invited in, but I doubt that. They raided and burned, living on nothing but what they could take from others. I remember my babushka reading that when a boy was born his father would throw down a sword beside him and say, 'I shall leave you no property, you will only have what you can provide with this sword.' My life was much like that, living on what I could earn by being a hired gun." Looking toward the horizon, Yuri could see the faint colors of the coming dawn. "Since I spent my life living like a Viking, I might as well go out as one."
Koh Tao
Ten kilometers offshore
two hours after sundown
(second day after pirate raid)
The Higgins boat was rocking gently in the ocean swell, bumping against the panga boat along side of it. The bumps were not enough to drive the boats apart, but the smaller boat was tied to the larger one both fore and aft with quick release knots. Everything was now ready for the ceremony, as three people and the large tortoise looked upon the occupant of the smaller boat with solemn eyes.
Yuri Orlov had died from his wounds shortly after daybreak the day they had left the island. Once Nyamo had seen that Yuri had passed on after spending the morning nearby to keep an eye on him, she checked him for vital signs and then zipped up the sleeping bag he had been laying on. With Gidget's help she was able to tow the sleeping bag to the treeline, keeping Yuri in the shade and out of most of the heat while awaiting Gaz's and Keitaro's return. Both the young girl and the tortoise looked relieved to see the two men come back to the island in the afternoon of the second day, and not just because they were unharmed.
Now the zipped shut sleeping bag was laying on top of dry branches and firewood in the captured pirate boat. Before placing the improvised body bag in the boat, the two men had inspected Yuri's body, cleaning off as much blood as they could from his face and hands, rearranging it so his clothes were straightened and that he was laying in a natural looking posture. Gaz had taken Yuri's AK and after stripping the bolt and the ammunition out of it had placed it at the Russian's side. Nyamo had taken Yuri's boonie hat and had woven a crown of tropical flowers and grasses around it, then placing it on his chest before the bag was finally zipped shut. Keitaro could not help but wonder if Nyamo's reason for the grass crown had been a local religious tradition or if it had been based on the ancient grass crown, one of the highest awards in the Roman military, given for saving a legion from destruction.
The bag had then been tied tightly around Yuri's body, then placed on top of the firewood placed in the boat, the bottom layers soaked in diesel and gasoline. This was in contrast to how they had set up the boat with the dead pirates the day before, where the criminals had been stacked not too neatly then had the flammable fuel poured over them before being towed into the gulf and set on fire, the current carrying the boat away from the island.
Everything worth salvaging had been placed in the Higgins boat, while the rest of the debris from the camp was stacked in one large pile in the middle of the clearing and soaked with the remainder of the fuel. What pitiful few relics Seta was able to find in the dig and survived the fire went in his pack. Yuri's pack was laid at his feet in the boat, save for three packets he had prepared, each with the other men's name on them and instructions not to open them until after they had dealt with his remains. One everything was loaded on the boats Gaz had lit the pile in the clearing with a flare stick, and the assembled survivors watched the bonfire reach a height of three or four meters before boarding the Higgins boat and sailing away, Yuri's boat being towed behind them on one side, Nyamo's sailboat on the other, it's sail furled and secured.
Now the three people were standing along the gunwale of the Higgins boat, looking at the boat alongside. Somehow Gidget was able to climb on top of the engine cover and was at able to look over the side of the boat at the smaller one. Gaz had another flare ready to ignite, but he had asked if they had anything they wanted to say.
Nyamo was first, stepping up to the rail and bowing toward Yuri. She then sang a short song in what sounded to be a Pacific Islander language before bowing and stepping back. Gaz, a declared agnostic, had given a short prayer, acknowledging that while Yuri had not been what could be considered a good man for most of his adult life, he had in the last few years done the right thing and saved many lives for it.
Finally, Keitaro stepped up to the rail and looked at the wrapped figure a short distance from him. While he had gone to funerals throughout his life in Japan, they had invariably been services done after the body was cremated and placed in an urn. The urn would then be placed on a table with a picture of the deceased beside it. Depending on whether the service had been religious or not, either a priest would say the traditional prayers or a family member would give a eulogy with other friends and family giving remarks of their own. After that the urn would be taken to a mausoleum and sealed in a niche, actual burials now rare in crowded Japan. This was the first time Keitaro would be present at the actual cremation, let alone the kind referred to as a Viking funeral.
Thinking back to a memorable time in his earlier life, Keitaro took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Granny Hina's words before she started that stage of his training crossed his mind – to be a true champion, a warrior must explore the darkness. (0:00)
"Gaz, Nyamo," Keitaro spoke without turning around. "Whatever you do, don't interrupt. It could have… consequences." Before the two surprised bystanders could respond, Keitaro raised his hands to shoulder level, a bloody bandage in one hand and a partially burned girl's hair ribbon in the other, and started to sing. (0:22)
Neither Gaz nor Nyamo could recognize the language at first. To Gaz, who was at least passing familiar with almost any major language on Earth, it sounded closest to the non-lyrical throat singing from the Mongolian steppes. To Nyamo it sounded like the wind as it swirled over the waves of the ocean just before a storm. But it did not take long after that when words became recognizable that Nyamo went pale, and after a few moments Gaz picked up on it.
"What's wrong, Nyamo?" The look on the young girl's face was not the same as it was in the cave, but it was close.
"This not human language, this closest to what people can say this way. Only heard once, very bad time." Nyamo looked up at the British merc, her eyes wide in fear. "This used to talk to…" Here her face twisted though reluctant to say the word. "…spirits." (2:40)
"What?!" Gaz wheeled about to look at Keitaro, only to see minuscule spheres of lights slowly circling the young man. As they watched the number of spheres increased in both number and intensity, growing to the size of marbles while glowing sky blue. After half a minute of singing there were a half dozen orbs rotating around Keitaro in a manner not unlike that of an atomic diagram. In addition, the two objects that he was holding in his hands, the bandage and the hair ribbon, were starting to glow as well before to Gaz's shock they floated up from his hands and hovered in front of him. But that was nothing compared to the horror the two bystanders felt when they noticed what looked to be *blood* trickling through and up from the zipper of Yuri's sleeping bag to form a sphere half the size of a baseball, floating between the two other objects. Through all this Keitaro continued to sing, his voice growing louder and matching up with the wind that to the spectators noticed was beginning to increase around them in a circular pattern.
"What the bloody hell are those things?" Gaz had to raise his voice in order to be heard over the wind.
Nyamo raised her voice as well. "Is ki, life energy! Very rare to see, used to make fighters strong! Have to be master to make visible!"
"Why the hell is he doing this?!" The way things were looking, this was not anything resembling a funeral rite or a good bye for Yuri, given the increasing light and wind show.
By now the look on Nyamo's face had gone past pale to positively ashen, especially under her dark tan. She was starting to understand some of the words Keitaro was singing, and it was filling her with horror. "Is spirit summoning! He calling on spirit of vengeance! He calling demon!"
"WHAT!?" As a former member of the British SAS and later on Task Force 141, Gaz had been briefed on supernatural threats that had been encountered by various special operations groups. The accounts were enough to give him sleepless nights, made even worse by the realizations that most of the stories were known only because there were survivors to tell them; the worst incidents were pieced together after the fact, gleamed from what little they could put together from scenes that were literally covered in blood.
The account that had stuck in Gaz's mind had been the story told by the lone eyewitness of a horrific incident in the Congo. A French Foreign Legion SpecOps squadron had been pursuing a warlord responsible for some of the worst atrocities since the Rwandan genocide. Entire villages were being slaughtered, the victims torn to shreds. No one understood the reason why, as various ethnic groups were targeted; no one was spared. It was only when the troopers got to the warlord's hideout in a village that was covered in blood and bones that they realized what was going on. The warlord was a self-styled witch doctor that was sacrificing hundreds of people in a bid for power and immortality. When the troopers finally laid eyes on the maniac, he was literally covered in bloody flayed human skin, chanting to a glowing figure rising from a pile of human hearts almost as tall as they were. Horrified, the Legionaries opened fire with automatic weapons and grenade launchers, tearing the man to pieces and inadvertently releasing the containment circle binding the demon in place.
A black fog rapidly enveloped the village, a fog with hundreds of red glowing eyes. Immediately the troopers turned and ran, dropping their packs and sprinting at top speed. They did not even try to engage the demon with their weapons, concentrating only on running for their lives. And that was still not enough, as one by one the troopers were overcome by the demon, dragged into the black fog, their screams then cutting off abruptly. It was only when the last two troopers started throwing white phosphorous grenades that the black fog stopped chasing them, the malevolent spirit held at bay by the blazing chemical fire.
Yet this salvation came at a high price; one trooper was hit by the incendiary material in the legs, resulting in horrific burns that would have cost him his legs if he had not died shortly thereafter from phosphorous poisoning. The last trooper had managed to call in on the radio and practically every NATO military and allies nearby responded with massive air strikes. By the time all was done twenty acres of Congolese jungle was burned and blown to ash by air-dropped incendiaries and fuel-air bombs.
Gaz still remembered the haunted look on the last trooper's eyes as he had recounted his story on the video his squadron had watched. A post-script to the story detailed how the lone survivor had been released from military service as a result of mental trauma, and after struggling with incessant nightmares and alcoholism the trooper wound up hanging himself. This story and some other second-hand accounts, and coming across the results of these incidents had resulted in the Lightbringer Protocols and its response; overwhelming incendiary bombing. The official orders to anyone coming across a supernatural event was to back off as fast as possible and call in for an airstrike, even in an urban setting, even if surrounded by civilians or non-combatants. It was the first part of the order that lead to the unofficial name for the response: Flee On Sight. The only exception was if the mission was deemed critical, in which case the troopers involved were expected to die fighting whatever supernatural being that had been summoned in order to complete the previous mission or to give enough time for other military members time to call in the airstrikes. One thing had been emphasized above all else; if a supernatural entity had already manifested, they were to do nothing to break it's containment, as the entities would invariably go out of control, killing it's summoner and any other people around it until it would run out of energy and dissipate. That would give the military forces more time to respond and reduce casualties overall.
By the time all this had gone through Gaz's mind, he realized it was too late; the visible manifestation of magic around them as well as the fact they were standing in the middle of a windstorm meant they could not back away and could not try and stop Keitaro. This did not keep Gaz from drawing his sidearm and keeping it next to his leg ready to use, one way or the other.
While all this was going on, the three humans did not notice that their aquatic companion was watching the events with an unusual intensity. Sitting on top of the motor housing, Gidget could see what was going on, and by the expression on her face understood every bit of it. After seeing Keitaro produce the ki swirling around him, and seeing what looked to be symbols being to form and glow on his inner forearms, the tortoise did something that the others did not notice but certainly had an effect; Gidget began to sing herself, her voice a wordless atonal melody that matched and synchronized with Keitaro's, with overwhelming effect. (4:44)
With a brilliant flash, dozens of orbs of green ki burst through the surface of the water around the boats, forming a second ring of roaring wind and energy around them to the two onlookers' astonishment. Slowly shrinking, the two rings of energy merged into one, resulting in a single ring of blue and green orbs that merged to form elongated streaks circling around the young man. As the spheres passed through where the three items were floating in front of Keitaro, they began to form a outline that stayed hovering in front of him, a shape that begun to glow white and take a humanoid appearance.
"Oh bugger, I've seen this movie before," Gaz groaned out loud. By now the figure had taken on a feminine appearance, that of a pale woman with long flowing white hair and robes. Floating in front of him and within arm's reach, Keitaro continued to sing, practically shouting in order to be heard over the roaring cyclone around them. In fact, the figure was almost between Keitaro's upheld hands, the symbols glowing brighter on his forearms, almost looking like he was trying to embrace her.
Down on one knee, one arm around a trembling Nyamo beside him, the other arm partially raised with his pistol not quite aimed at the other man, Gaz could only watch as the spirit slowly reached out with one hand toward Keitaro's face, who unflinchingly kept singing at full volume to be heard over the deafening winds. The spirit's hand stopped a couple of centimeters from the ronin's face, and now her own face got closer until they were literally face to face, eye to eye. The two stared at each other, one singing loudly and defiantly, the other distant yet curious. (6:08)
Suddenly, the spirit dove forward, plunging into Keitaro's body, his body freezing and glowing brightly what seemed to be an eternal moment before there was a brilliant flash. With the sound of shattering metal a dazzling pulse of energy burst from Keitaro in a ring of light, passing through the three other occupants of the boat with no effect other than an intense tingle before racing out to sea and fading away. Keitaro himself fell to his knees and hands, gasping deeply while looking down at the deck.
Gaz slowly stood up, Nyamo coming to her feet as well before pulling away slightly, her hands still holding the Brit's off arm. The two watched as Keitaro kept gasping, the sound changing to become something close to crying, before he pushed himself up so he was on his knees only, looking out toward Yuri's boat.
"Keitaro? Are you hurt?" This was the make or break moment; Gaz's pistol was not quite aimed at the younger man's head, the safety off, his finger on the trigger. (6:18)
Keitaro did not reply for a long moment, his gasping cries slowly becoming laughter. Struggling to his feet, he kept facing away, seemingly unaware that Gaz was now aiming a pistol at his head. Raising his open hand in front of his face, the other two persons watched as a sphere of energy formed on his flattened hand, first blue, then green, then white. The white orb, now the size of a baseball, spun for a moment before being thrown from Keitaro's hand into Yuri's boat, igniting the pyre. He then yanked free the knots on the tie off ropes and the smaller boat floated away from the Higgins boat, the flames quickly growing and engulfing the entire boat.
Finally turning back toward his companions, the two were shocked to see blood form tear tracks from Keitaro's eyes down his cheeks. "I'm fine, Gaz. It just took a lot out of me to do that." Ignoring the pistol aimed at him, the young ronin moved toward the bow and lay down on the deck, closing his eyes. "Let's go back to Samui, we don't have time to waste."
After considering his partner for a long moment, Gaz safed his pistol and holstered it. Moving toward the wheel, the Brit started the motor and after consulting the GPS turned the boat toward Samui, leaving the flaming pyre boat behind.
Omake
Omake A/N – this takes place just after Gaz and Keitaro leave for Koh Pha Ngan to look for the pirate teen and later the Russian middleman.
Koh Tao
Lookout Beach
Day after pirate raid
Daybreak
Yuri Orlov finished sealing the last envelope that he had been working on. It shortly joined it's two companions under the cord webbing on the outside of his pack next to him. This was a novel experience for the Russian; he had thought that when the time would come for his death, it would be in some god-forsaken hellhole in the Third World, in the middle of a firefight, quickly bleeding out after being shot or blown up. Instead, he was slowly fading out from wounds on a tropical beach most Westerners would pay a fortune to visit. He even had a chance to say a goodbye of sorts to the people he had been working with, people that to his surprise had earned his respect.
Gaz Shaw was a soldier that he would be glad to have at his side in any battle, and had in previous jobs in Southeast Asia. Noriyasu Seta was a pretty good boss relatively speaking, especially considering that he gave him a last chance since that fuck-up with Sarah almost getting taken by that island piece of shit. Nyamo Namo was a lot smarter and a lot tougher than her quiet personality showed. But it was Keitaro Urashima that had surprised him the most.
Behind the facade of a quiet academic was something that gave him pause. Not to say that he was scared of him, but seeing the young ronin lose his temper and break the jaw of the little shit that had taken Sarah had certainly surprised him. There was a core of steel in the young Japanese man, a determination that showed when he talked about entering the University of Tokyo, when he had practiced his shooting and fighting skills (Yuri was much more experienced and skilled than Keitaro, but the younger man had still surprised him in their spars). Yuri had not been surprised to hear that Ronin had taken out a pirate with a knife from behind; he was surprised by how well he had appeared to take it, given that the Russian had seen other inexperienced fighters get traumatized by close up kills. Maybe it had to do with the fact than he had killed one of the gang members that had been trying to kidnap his sister, even if it was accidental, and therefore was used to the idea of people dying at his hands. But earlier this morning Yuri had seen the look in Keitaro's eyes that proclaimed he would do what it would take to get Sarah back.
The packets that he had made up contained short notes. The one to Seta was an apology for failing to protect Sarah, and a couple of lines saying that he had no family and was fine with being either buried or cremated at sea, with detailed instructions already given to Keitaro. Gaz's note was a simple one, telling him it was an honor to have fought at his side, and left him his Zippo lighter with an engraved Russian double-headed eagle.
The one to Keitaro was actually the longest note, filling almost a full page. In it, he told the young ronin that he was glad to have become his friend, that he had confidence that he would be able to recover Sarah, and that while he was probably the most honorable man he had ever met, to not let that honor get in the way of protecting his friends and loved ones. He also told the younger man to buy a round of drinks for the group, including Nikolai and his crew, the next time he had a chance. To this end Yuri enclosed his Swiss bank account card and access code, with a current balance of around $500,000 USD in it, the remains of his reward money for killing Vladimir Makarov that terrible day in Moscow.
Taking the cloth bag around his neck between his fingers, he could feel the bones rolling around in it. What Yuri had not told Keitaro in his earlier story was that after he had shot Makarov from behind at close range he had taken his Kizlyar knife and cut off his captain's right index and middle fingers as proof of the kill. Shoving them in a plastic bag, he had then grabbed a shocked senseless Joseph Allen and ran through the crowded concourse, their assault rifles producing instant screams and chaos. After dumping the rifles and armor vests, Yuri had carjacked a taxi and after shoving Allen in the back was able to make good their get away. Traveling through the emergency ratline set up for the undercover agents to escape, the two men were out of Moscow in two hours and out of Russia in two days.
The debriefing that took place in England had been a strange thing; Yuri could not tell if his handlers were pleased that the last major thorn in their side in Russia had been taken out, or unhappy for the abrupt, chaotic way it had occurred. There had been no warning, no plans for something like this to happen. The fact that Makarov had not only known about their undercover agent but had been about to use him in the largest black flag operation in intelligence history to start a war with the United States and then all of Europe, well that had caught them completely flat footed. The fact that a follow-up raid in Georgia by Loyalist forces along with Task Force 141 had produced iron-clad proof that rogue elements of the Loyalist government were involved with the plot as well as a Western Private Military Company, not to mention an active service American general… It was a miracle that the world did not go up in flames.
But when all was said and done, the question remained on what to do with Yuri Orlov; Ultranationalist sympathizers would kill him on sight, while Loyalist supporters were not comfortable with a man that had betrayed Mother Russia and his commander to work for Western intel agencies. In the end, it was decided to give Yuri the two million dollar reward for Vladimir Makarov, a new French passport and a polite suggestion to not spend time in Europe for the next few years. Taking their advice, Yuri left for Asia, spending a lot of time and money in the Philippines, working his way through the sex tourism towns. It was only after he had woken up for the umpteenth time with two hooker girls sprawled over him, with faint memories of hash and blow and giggling girls, trying to get away from the memories of screaming and blood and men and women and children dying in horrible ways, that Yuri finally said enough. He had blown over half his money, and he could probably still go on for some more time, but there was a feeling in his gut where he realized that the only way to get his mind off the memories was by working, and not by drinking and whoring. He hired onto a freighter a couple days later as an armed guard, and had not looked back since. The only regret he really did have was that he had been off drinking when he should have been with Keitaro and Sarah, and that was what had kicked this entire thing off.
Glancing off to the side, Yuri could see both Nyamo and Gidget sitting in the tree line in eyesight of him. He had already spoken with them, giving Nyamo all the cash he had on him, about two thousand American dollars, and a short farewell, telling her to keep close to Keitaro if she could, and not get sucked into their crazy life if possible. Even with Gidget he finally apologized for being so brusque with her, the large tortoise mewing an acceptance before rubbing her head against his hand.
Now the sun was finally clear of the horizon, the reds and oranges mingling with the blues and greens of the sky and ocean. This was the one thing about being in Asia he never tired of, watching the sun rise and set. Back in Russia the sunrise only meant another hard day's work was about to start, and the sunset meant that the evil in men would start prowling, looking for victims to feed on. But he looked forward to watching the sun rise here on the island, and he was glad it was probably going to be the last thing he was going to see.
Yuri shook the last cigarette from the pack before tossing it onto his knapsack. Lighting the smoke from the butt he had just drawn on, he took a deep drag, holding it for a long moment before coughing again. Burying the dead butt in the sand beside him, Yuri took another hit and stared out over the water, the smoke slowly trickling from his nose. He was suddenly feeling tired, and after taking another long drag he looked out over the blue water and orange sky, closing his eyes to rest for a moment.
*WHACK*
Flinching, Yuri looked up to see a figure beside him, outlined in the orange sky. With another *WHACK* what felt like a broom hit him on the side of the head, causing him to drop his smoke and try and protect his face. "What the hell?!"
"Get up, you lazy bag of bones! There's work to be done, and you hiding here isn't going to get you out of it! There's pigs to feed, weeds to pull, and your personal favorite, shit to shovel!" There were a couple more *whacks* before Yuri recognized the voice of the elderly female standing beside him, causing him to freeze in place. "Baba Yaga?" Yuri whispered.
There were a couple more *whacks* with the broom. "Oh to have such a disrespectful grandson! I feed him, I clothe him and this is how he repays me, by calling me an ugly old woman!" Hitting him again, the figure continued. "On your feet, the sun's come up and you should have been up before it!"
Scrambling to his feet, Yuri look down at the old woman before him. A full head and shoulders taller than her, the elderly female was dressed in a dirty blue coat and ragged brown pants over rubber boots. A dark red shawl was wrapped over her head, exposing only wisps of iron grey hair. Brilliant blue eyes peered out over of a deeply wrinkled face, the nose large and hooked, the mouth set in a thin line.
"You think that just because it's Sunday you can just sleep in? Bah! There is still work to be done!" The woman swung her broom at Yuri, who managed to dodge back. "Once you feed the cows and pigs, then you can come up and eat, you lazy bones."
"At least let me have a mug of tea and some buttered bread, my stomach is killing me here Baba Katya." Yuri tried not to whine, and failed miserably.
The look on the old woman's face softened somewhat before hardening again. "Quickly, quickly! If you can get some bread and tea before I get to the kitchen, that's fine. Otherwise I'm going to shove this broomstick somewhere where you won't need hands to sweep!"
Yuri turned to run toward the kitchen when he realized that; he was on his feet with no pain; his grandmother Katya had died while he had been away at his basic military training; he was still standing on the beach in Thailand; and his body was laying at his feet on the sand, his eyes closed, his chest still.
"Baba Katya?" Looking at his grandmother, he saw the solemn look on her face.
"Yes, it's time to move on Yura," the old woman said, using his nickname from his youth. "You have plenty to make up for, and it will take a lot of work. But what you did in the end that day in Moscova helped tip the scales toward you. Don't fuck this up, boy." A slight smile on the wrinkled face help soften the harsh words.
"Thank you, Baba Katya." Yuri did not know what else to say.
"Don't thank me, thank the Good Lord above. And thank that girl of yours Svetlana for putting in a good word; honestly, I don't know what she sees in you," the old woman scoffed.
"Svetlana?" Yuri was almost paralyzed; She had been his girlfriend back when he was in his mid teens, after having known each other their entire lives. They had gone from the 'he/she has cooties!' stage to the 'throwing mud at each other' stage to the 'those curves/muscles look interesting' stage. Unfortunately, Svetlana had died of antibiotic-resistant pneumonia shortly after her sixteenth birthday.
Looking behind his grandmother, Yuri could see another figure standing at the surf line. Wearing a loose flowery dress, her pale blonde hair in a thick French braid, her blue eyes bright in her face, Svetlana looked just like his memories of her.
Yuri was paralyzed again; his dead love was before him looking to be in her mid teens, while he was a torn up merc twice as old as her. But then he caught a glimpse of his arms, and then he looked at all of his body. Gone were the corded muscles, colorful tattoos, and bloody torn clothing; instead he had bare, thinner arms, and worn but clean farm clothes. He suddenly realized he was in his sixteen year old body again. While in shock, Yuri stayed still before there was a full power *WHACK* across his butt with a broom.
"What do you think you're doing, just standing there making moon eyes! Go get your damn tea and bread and get to work!" The old woman roared, taking another swing at him, only to miss when Yuri ran toward his girl. Laughing, Svetlana ran toward him, the two embracing with Yuri swinging her around with her feet in the air, feeling like they would never let go of each other again.
A/N 2 – I must say, I've been looking forward to writing this chapter, even if it made me a little nervous to do so. Keitaro doing a spirit summoning to break his ki seals is something totally outside of Love Hina canon, and it requires a level of action and scene description that I hope I got right.
I do hope that most if not all of you enjoyed having a background soundtrack to listen to while reading the scene. As I've said before, there are certain songs that I believe fit into both the theme and the background of Contract Labor, and the Instrumental version of Zack Hemsey's Vengeance is one of them. The regular version of Vengeance is pretty damn good too, and I seriously considered having Keitaro using the lyrics of the song as the chant to break the seals. But in the end, I decide to have Keitaro sing in spirit song, which is not a human language, and is used to summon and communicate with spirits… the results after that vary with the user. For those that are curious, the complete Vengeance song was used in the Season 2 trailer for Game of Thrones, the new version of the Equalizer movie, and a really kick-ass Naruto AMV titled 'Before I Die Alone, I Will Have Vengeance' by SprinkleSpankles, which I saw at AnimeExpo a couple of years ago.
To those that are curious as to the items that Keitaro was holding when he began to sing, it was a bloody bandage from Seta, and a hair ribbon of Sarah's recovered from her burned down tent. These are two of the people wronged by the pirates and slavers, and since Yuri was near him when he started singing and he had been wronged as well, his blood joined in the ceremony. The spirit is a yuki-onna, which is closely associated with the Urashima family in this story.
As to the reason why I wrote the Yuri omake, well I figured he needed some time in the sun. In the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 game chapter 'No Russian' you are the undercover agent forced to take part in the massacre of unarmed civilians. What the game doesn't tell you at first is that you do not have to kill civilians in the stage; you can just follow behind Makarov and his men as they do the killing. But what you cannot do is kill Makarov himself; the game goes 'player dead' and restarts the chapter. So I decided to have poor Yuri, who did see Imran Zakhaev selling nukes at Chernobyl before he got his arm blown off, and did see Vladimir Makarov set off the nuke in the Middle East during COD: Modern Warfare 1, do the one thing that would save lives and prevent WWIII – kill Makarov. And since he had saved millions of lives by that action, he probably deserved a chance to be happy in the next life.
Part of the monologue where Yuri is talking about his dark memories from the Russian Civil War and how he cannot forget them as much as he tries is based on the Rutger Hauer "Tears In Rain" monologue from Blade Runner.
Walnut brownie cookies for recognizing the "Whoever gives the order should be able to swing the sword" line from Ned Stark in 'Game of Thrones' go to Ted Hsu (who gets a turtle shaped cookie), BlackRevenant, and WalkerofDarkness.
I guess I'm keeping the Vanilla Double Stuff Oreo cookies, which are totally appropriate since the Russian merc Jerry and the Russian medic Sue are based on Jiraiya and Tsunade from Naruto. Come on people, I had Jerry with the red tear tracks, white hair, and pervy behavior, and Sue with the blonde pigtail braids, super strength and giant boobs. Short of giving them their canon names I couldn't really be more obvious. They will reappear in the story, since they are part of Nikolai's merc group.
Thanks again to AZ MII and PCH for their mad beta skillz, and WalkerofDarkness for catching some really nasty typos.
As of 0030 08Sept15 this story has 227K words, 686 Reviews, 610K Views, 57 C2 Listings, 1152 Favorites, and 1046 Story Alerts. Thanks again, guys… and gals. Remember, feedback is the fuel that gets the writer going faster. *thumbs up*