CHAPTER TWO – MADHOUSE

Ami Mizuno removed her reading glasses as she stared at her organic chemistry textbook, rubbing her eyes. She squinted at the complicated diagram of the organic compound on the page, trying to figure out its nomenclature.

"Five carbon atoms…four hydrogen…one nitrogen…bonded with carboxylic acid…equals niacin? How?" she muttered, trying to force her brain to comprehend the odd formula in front of her eyes. She glanced out the window of the student lounge where she was working.

The sun was starting to go down, and crowds of Japanese citizens made their way home for the evening. It was Tokyo rush hour, a time for everyone to get out of work as quickly as they could for a quiet evening at home, dinner, and family and friends. But not for a medical student—Ami could see nothing ahead of her except another long evening of organic chemistry. Even for someone as brilliant as she was, it was still exceptionally tough. She didn't even want to think of what would happen if her studying was interrupted by a youma attack. Oh, they would be sorry…

The blue-haired genius sighed and started to pack up. "Time to go home," she thought to herself. "Have some of mom's cooking…make myself some tea…" She started to run through how she would tackle the chemistry as she stepped outside and started walking.

Walking closely to the buildings around her so she could cut corners easily, Ami's mind started to wander now that it was free of studying for the moment. Youma activity had been relatively quiet the past couple of days since they had rescued Usagi, which was good since it had given her wound time to heal. Ami wondered how she had been able to explain the injury to her parents.

Ami frowned. That was one of the few things she thought was unfortunate about being a Sailor Senshi—it meant you had to constantly cover your tracks, including withholding the truth from loved ones and family members. Not that she wanted recognition for her deeds, but sometimes she wondered what it would be like to talk to someone outside the core group of six. It hurt her, having to lie about where she had been all night or where the random scratches and bruises were coming from. But they were sworn to secrecy, as always—and her friends were all she had in that regard.

Despite her musings, Ami stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few people behind her to bump rudely into the med student with an angry reply of, "Watch where you're going." Ami stared at one of the side streets.

Members of the Japanese Self-Defense Force were nothing out of the ordinary, especially in the age of terrorism. But Ami felt there was something suspicious about five or six of them, submachine guns on their backs, marching into a dark alley. The crowded mass of humanity on the streets seemed too preoccupied in their own little worlds to notice anything out of the ordinary.

Ami debated briefly before cautiously following them.

The sun had continued to go down, making the alley appear even darker. She moved silently through it, tailing the policemen by about twenty-five feet.

The rear guard quickly turned around to see whether they were being followed, and saw…nothing out of the ordinary. The alley was crowded with trash cans and garbage, like any other alley, and Ami had quickly crouched behind one of them to hide herself.

The squad disappeared around a corner, deeper into the maze of back alleys in between the apartment blocks that surrounded them. It amazed her how chaotic Tokyo sometimes seemed, with side streets and alleys that twisted back upon themselves and seemed to lead nowhere.

Stepping as quietly as she could, Ami peeked around the corner of the brick wall and her eyes widened in shock.

A choking sound came from the woman who had been taking out the garbage behind one of the buildings; a black-gloved hand had gripped her throat. A strange pinkish glow filled the woman's body as she slumped to the ground, drained of energy. The policeman lowered his victim to the ground, depositing her on the floor and flexing his hand. A derisive snort came from behind his riot mask. "Humans and their trust for authority," he told his companions. "I told you this would work."

"Youma," Ami thought in dismay. "Mercury Power, MAKE-UP!" She pulled out her mini-computer and frantically tried to pinpoint who was closest to offer aid. A red dot showed up only a few blocks away. She sent a commique: "Rei, I need you to drop what you're doing and get over here as soon as you can. Please."

The blue-suited Senshi of Water stepped angrily around the corner to confront the monsters in disguise. "Do you have any idea how tough it is to study for organic chemistry without you beasts messing up my study schedule?" she said angrily. "In the name of Mercury, I will punish you!" She half-bent her knees, her legs trembling with coiled-up energy ready to spring at the slightest attack.

"A Senshi, eh?" the lead policeman said in a muffled voice behind his mask. Then, "Shoot her!" The youma raised their submachine guns, preparing to unleash a storm of lead on Sailor Mercury.

Ami moved first. "Mercury Bubbles—BLAST!"

The dense, chilling fog removed the youma visibility and caused their shots to go wild. Ami charged at them, leaping lightly against the alley wall and launching herself into a spinning kick to knock away one of the youma's weapons. She landed heavily on her feet on the other side of the group; the youma turned around at once and fired frantically every which way.

Bullets whistled by her ears. She took off running in the opposite direction, brilliant bursts of submachine gun fire following her all the while. They may not have been able to see her, but the youma were still firing in her general direction for all they were worth, and bullets were bullets.

Deeper into the maze of alleys she went. Ami gambled and took a hard left into…a dead end.

Ami swore; her fog was beginning to thin out, and there was no place to go. The enemy youma rounded the corner after her and raised their weapons, seeing they had her trapped.

Mercury leapt forward towards the dead-end wall, somersaulting over the top of a wide dumpster and landing on the other side just in time to cover her ears as the youma opened fire.

Brutal, ear-shattering pings and pangs resulted as the youma hosed their weapons around, as if they had all the ammunition in the world. Sailor Mercury shut her eyes tightly. "They have to stop to reload sometime," she reasoned.

While two monsters kept her pinned down with machine gun fire, three more beasts began advancing toward her position, aiming to outflank and overwhelm her. Ami forced her brain to try to think of a way out. It didn't look good.

Her enemies weren't expecting the covering fire to stop suddenly. Turning around the youma leader swore when he saw his two troopers immobilized, each with an elegantly written ofuda on its body.

Behind them stood an angry Sailor Mars. "Why don't you pick on someone your size?" she snarled. "Mars Fire—IGNITE!"

Her attack came too quickly for the youma to react; in seconds, two more of them were smoldering heaps of ashes. The leader aimed his weapon at the Senshi of Fire and squeezed the trigger right as Sailor Mercury's boot knocked his hands up, diverting the deadly spray of lead.

The Senshi of Water gripped the surprised enemy's head with her forearms and gave it a brutal twist, breaking its neck. Its weapon clattered noisily to the ground, echoing off the walls.

"Thanks for the quick response, Sailor Mars," she said gratefully as she de-transformed.

Rei shrugged and blew a wisp of smoke from her fingers. "It's what I do. Are you okay?" Ami checked herself out and nodded. She looked at the destroyed youma. "It worries me, though—how did they get police uniforms?" Ami asked worriedly.

"They're stepping up their game," Rei agreed. "This isn't good. They'll be able to attack with more impunity, and blend in better too. It's a good thing you stumbled onto this, Ami."

"We have to let the others know about this when we see them. Let's get out of here," said Rei. As they emerged from the alley and continued walking home as if nothing was out of the ordinary, Rei spoke up again.

"You know, I was talking to Mina just now and she thinks we all need to unwind a bit next week."

"Oh? In what way?"

"You know…basically, we need to let loose a little. Fighting youma is hard work!" Rei said enthusiastically. Ami frowned. She didn't like what was being implied.

"I don't know; I'll probably have a lot of homework," she said shyly.

"Come on, I don't plan on drinking much either," Rei encouraged. "We're partying in Makoto's apartment. I'm bringing homemade sake! Come on—all work and no play is bad for a Senshi!"

Ami raised an eyebrow. "You've been spending too much time with Mina, I think."

"Whatever. You're coming to this thing if I have to knock you out with an ofuda and drag you there myself. Get your studying done this week, Ami. Next week…we party," the Senshi of Fire said with a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

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When Matt Sneider had found out he had gotten the interview with Goldman Sachs, he had started looking at their annual reports to prepare. You had to be able to have a somewhat intelligent conversation with an interviewer.

When he was invited back for the second-round interview with Goldman Sachs, he had picked up a Japanese dictionary and started studying it.

When he was invited back for the third round interview, he started looking at apartment prices in Tokyo. He also had started packing his bags.

Was it somewhat cocky on his part? Absolutely. But it turned out he need not have worried; to help with the transition into another culture, the company was picking up a good chunk of the rent for his apartment and offering tours and orientations left and right. Matt was grateful for it, as he had never been to Japan before—but to say he was excited was an understatement.

In those couple of weeks since he accepted the offer on the shooting range, he had told his family and closest friends about it and promised to stay in touch no matter what. Skype was particularly handy for this. Many of his relatives and friends had already known that he was applying for an overseas job, so they were somewhat prepared for it, but it was still tough for them to watch him go off into the sunset.

"The analyst program is a two-year stint," he told his parents. "I'll find time to come home on the holidays. I have no doubt it's gonna be an absolute blast working in Tokyo."

Hugs. Kisses. A couple of new suits. And off he went to the Land of the Rising Sun.

As expected, it had been quite a shock for a Midwestern American. Matt Sneider had been extremely grateful for directions on how to use the subway and what to eat that was "safe" for a western palate. It didn't help that Matt had never been a sushi eater.

The yen was also rather amusing for him. His eyes had popped open when he saw a 1000-yen note, but then he realized that that translated to about $10. "God help me," he muttered when that realization hit him. "It makes me feel ten times richer when I'm really not!"

His apartment was pretty basic—bed, bathroom, mini-kitchen, no roommates—which was definitely a plus. However, Matt spent very little time in it, as he was so caught up in the new culture that he wanted to constantly be out and about in it, with all the enthusiasm of a new graduate working for a top-notch firm in a big city. His attitude wasn't exactly one of smugness—but whatever it was, that description wasn't that far off the mark. It was one thing to sign your name on a contract that said you were moving to Tokyo for two years to work in finance, but once your feet were on the ground and you breathed the air—that was when it truly hit you that you weren't in America anymore.

Matt had never seen such a colossus of humanity—35 million people in Greater Tokyo, he had read. And the bustle—Matt had known some of it in Chicago, but never on a scale like this. Every karaoke bar was packed to capacity, every street-crossing had a long line of people waiting to cross, and neon signs with elaborate characters poured their light over everything. The striking lights heaved themselves into the sky, daring the night to challenge them.

One could just start walking around and still have an experience, even if you didn't plan on going anywhere in particular. And yet, in the constant motion, there were still islands of bright tranquility in the city's Shinto temples and Christian churches. It made Matt happy to see them still alive among the sleek modernity.

There was a week to get adjusted and shake off the jet lag from the 13-hour flight. Then it was time to report into work at 9am for his first day at Goldman.

Matt was led into one of the inner recesses of Goldman's Tokyo office, which was housed in a beautiful new structure of postmodern glass and steel. It even had its own plaza with a fountain.

This inner recess consisted of a central common area with a conference table and about 20 chairs. Leading off this room were several small offices with cubicles, computers and surprisingly comfortable chairs—which was appropriate, because Matt had heard that employees often spent the majority of their waking lives in them. Matt sat around the conference table with about two dozen of his fellow entry-level analysts, each impeccably dressed and eager to impress on their first day on the job.

"Welcome to Goldman Sachs and to Tokyo, ladies and gentlemen," an older banker strolled in and sat at the head of the table. "I trust everyone's settled in nicely. This area is your personal space; we sometimes call it 'the meat locker.'" A few chuckles went around the table.

"It might look pretty calm now, but we here at Goldman Sachs are hoping that you'll turn it into a crazy hive of activity soon enough. Once the deals start rolling in, this place will be humming 24/7. Remember, that's what we like to see when we hand out promotions and bonuses, so plan ahead."

The young faces around the table brightened at that comment. Sneider was itching to get started. The number of deals an investment bank could process was a major sign of how good it was.

"Each of you has his or her own desk, computer, file cabinet, and chair," the banker continued. "You'll be assigned to different deal teams, each headed by an associate. You'll get to meet them as soon as we break you up into teams. So, you four—" he swept his hand over a group that included Matt—"are with Jim Greenberg over here. Jim, why don't you tell them what they'll be working on?"

"Got a company called Shinzuo Forestry Products, looking to buy a paper company in Sapporo," Jim Greenberg said. "I'm gonna need an analysis on the structure of the financing behind it. I'll need a DCF for each company involved to see if we valued them correctly. And lastly, someone's gonna have to start planning out the pitch book and the presentation. Let's get started."

All the technical jargon aside, Matt was pumped. He had heard about the long hours and the hard work, and by God, he was ready to get started!

3 hours later…

"Matt, how are you doing with all that info I gave you?" Jim poked his head into Matt's cube. He stared at the massive pile of paper on the desk next to his computer, literally hundreds of pages of charts, graphs, summaries, and spreadsheets. It looked like enough information to open a museum, and Matt only had a full day to digest all of it with his analysis being due in two days.

"Jim, I…I don't know if I'm gonna be able to get through all this stuff in time," Matt said nervously. "I mean, you wanted this spreadsheet done by 6 tonight, but I honestly don't know what to look for. I haven't built a model like this since my corporate finance course back in junior year of college."

An understanding grin spread across Jim Greenberg's face. "I've been waiting for somebody to say something like that," the associate said knowingly. "This was the first test of your career—when to fess up and admit you're in over your head."

"Uh…Really?" Matt asked.

"Yup; I do it with all the first-time analysts." He took a few steps into the room. "Basically…" the associate grabbed the pile of papers, "basically, the only stuff you need to focus on is…this…this…and this too…" he began pulling out a few sections from the massive stack. When he was done, Matt was left with about a quarter of the initial information he had. It looked much more manageable.

"That's it?" the new analyst exclaimed in disbelief. "That's all I need to know to build a merger model in Excel?"

"Like 99% of the time," Jim said breezily. "Look, a big part of this business is cutting through the BS. The less of it you have to do, the more stuff gets done on time, and the less my Vice President rags on me for not having stuff done on time. You feel me?"

Matt nodded. "Sure. Thanks. I owe you. I probably would have been here till 3am reading all that."

"Oh don't get me wrong; there'll be plenty of nights like that," Jim told him. "You never know if a request will come in from the client asking for a completely different analysis due the next day, and you'll have to rebuild your model and the entire presentation for them from scratch. They don't care what time it is; they want it done. If it takes till sunrise, then it takes till sunrise. I hope you pulled all-nighters during college. That's why our hours are so long and unpredictable—client demands."

"I see."

"Not to mention all the meetings you'll have to attend during the day, which eats up a lot of valuable time…but whatever, I don't want to start by making too many recommendations. But I will say this—after our team completes its first deal—done well and on time, mind you—I'll pick up the tab for everybody for a night at The Empty Glass."

"Which is…?"

"It's a bar that has an American expatriate clientele," Jim explained. "Lots of good stuff; it's pretty popular among the bankers here. One day, you'll know the feeling. It's great finishing a giant project and then going there to get shit-housed on Stella."

Matt nodded, embarrassed that he wasn't really a drinker at all. But he wasn't about to admit that. "Sounds as if you've been going there for a while?"

The associate smirked. "Longer than I'd care to admit. But hey, it's living the dream, isn't it? Anyway, I'm gonna go check on the other analysts. You'll have that spreadsheet ready by six. Who knows? This'll be one of the few nights in your career where you'll get to go home before midnight."