(Hitoshi)
As you enter the Great Hall, the ceiling is torn away, and you glance up to see a vortex of deepening blue. Debris, furnishings, the bodies of the living and the dead - all are being drawn into the maelstrom.
With the floors above you gone, the only route available - the only one that makes sense, at least - is to exit through the double doors leading into the hall and follow the corridor into the courtyard outside.
You only hope that the others make it out all right.
There's another twinge of pain from conflicting ... memories? - but you haven't the time to stop and sort things out.
Hitoshi looks at the swirling vortex for a second. "Good Job Guys. Nicely done." He says smiling before he continues his quick pace through the double doors and into the hallway.
As you make your way through the hallway, you do a double-take. In one moment, the hallway is much as it was - a standard castle hallway, augmented by work lights that flicker for a moment, then fail.
In the next, it's a debris-strewn passage with holes blasted in the wall, the stonework darkened with smoke and char. There's the smell of chemical propellant - not something you'd expect in this setting. The Einjehar might have something of the sort, but why would they be attacking their own stronghold?
You continue out through a cratered courtyard and reality does another tap-dance. The vertigo borders on nausea.
"Mr. Ryder, are you all right?" asks someone. "Hitoshi?"
Akane? Why is she here. No, not Akane. Mika Hanamura, your personal assistant.
"I'm fine. Just ... dizzy for a moment," you smile.
You are no longer standing on a battlefield, but a freshly-paved city street. Around you is the sound of construction, and the welcome sight of homes springing up where the explosion of a gas pipeline destroyed most of a neighborhood.
"Mr. Ryder!" someone else calls. "Mr. Ryder! Care to comment?" You turn to see a reporter and photographer approaching. "Megan Whittaker, KLAS," the woman says, beaming. "The rumor is that you're considering a run for Congress. Would you like to respond?"
Hitosi looks around, taking the moment of viewing the construction to formulate his response and get his bearings.
"What would Lya say or do?" He mentally asks himself. After a moment he turns to the woman and smiles.
"Well Miss Whittaker, The future holds many things, most of them unknown. What I do know is the here and now, and the people that were displaced from this neighborhood when the gas main blew up. That is the main thing of concern for the near future, helping these people get back on their feet and back into their homes to try and continue a life that was so harshly interrupted. Congress is not my concern right now, the people are."
He bows low to the woman and looks around to find anyone he knows that might be in charge so that he could get himself back to the Westview Grand and away from the media spotlight.
"Mr. Ryder, the filing deadline is tomorrow," Whittaker presses. "Surely you have a clearer answer than that."
Other media crews are beginning to cluster, leaving off representatives from the utility and construction companies, as well as the Mayor's office. Mika whispers in your ear as if reminding you about an appointment, but simply asks, "Limousine?"
Hitoshi nods at Mika's words and then turns back to the reporter and smiles. "Well then Miss Whittaker, the news, like everyone else will have to wait and see if I file. However, I know the news will make their own speculation no matter what I say, so feel free to jazz it up. However, If I should decide to do so, you can have first exclusive."
With those words said, he follows Mika and ducks into the Limo.
"Get us out of here." He growls wincing at the pain in his head. He turns to Mika.
"This is going to sound weird, but whats going on here? I don't remember any of this."
Mika consults her tablet. "You have lunch with James Sokatsu, followed by a conference call with Toshiro Kimura at 2:30 PM. That's 6:30 AM, for him," she says. "Otherwise, your calendar is fairly light for the week."
Hitoshi starts to shake his head then stops. "Mika, Do you remember taking a ride with me and James out to an Abandoned Factory Warehouse?"
There is a marked silence. Uncomfortable, even. Mika bows her head. "How have I offended, Ryder-san?" she says quietly. The question seems odd, until you realize Mika is looking down at her left hand, where the joint of one finger has been severed in the traditional Yakuza punishment of yubitsume. Hitoshi's mind reels.
"Stop the car.. stop the fucking car!" The driver slams on the breaks causing the people behind him to swerve or slam on theirs. Angry honking ensues as Hitoshi staggers out onto the sidewalk. Ripping the lid off a nearby trashcan, he pukes up everything in his stomach, retching for a full minute until nothing is left and all he has is dry heaves. He leans back against the car, breathing heavily and attempting to understand what he had just seen.
After a moment he climbs back into the car, staring pointedly at Mika and grabbing her hand firmly but gently.
"Mika, did I make you do this?"
Mika's head remains bowed. "Watashi wa warui koto o shimashita*," she breathes. "It was my carelessness, and your right to demand atonement. You are the Oyabun of the Kuro Kuren. Punishment was required; you were more forgiving than others."
* Translation: I did a bad thing.
Hitoshi shakes his head. "No Mika... That wasn't me... I mean it might have been, but." He sighs. "Ah hell." He rubs his face with his hands.
Mika, How much do you know about me? Tell me all. But mainly, Tell me, Who is my father? And Who in the heck is the Kuro Kuren?"
"You are Hitoshi Ryder, Oyabun of the Kuro Kuren, the Black Crane Ryu," she says. "To the public, you are a wealthy Japanese-American philanthropist. To the Cranes, you are father and mentor. To your enemies, you are an implacable foe."
Hitoshi shakes his head. "This is wrong. This is all wrong." He mutters to himself.
"Mika, I need to talk to Kimura now."
"Who?" Mika asks.
"A man named Toshiro Kimura, I need you to use our resources and find him." Hitoshi says suddenly
"Hai," she says. She resumes working on her tablet. After a moment, she hands you the device. A list of men named Kimura is displayed - a couple with the first initial T, one using the diminutive of Shiro, and one using the full name.
All of the addresses and numbers are in Japan.
"Perfect, thank you."
He takes the PDA and cross references the names with a company called Pacific Rim to see if there are any matches.
There's a hit, but the information strikes you as incorrect. Still, given that so much else has changed, it isn't that much of a surprise.
Pacific Rim is a seafood importer. You've probably done business with them by way of restaurant supplies.
"Mika, when we get back, check to see if we have done business with this company." He says passing the PDA back to her. After that he leans back in the seat and closes his eyes sighing.
"Stuff has changed, but how much has changed. IS this an evil world like on start trek? Should I be expecting everyone to wear goatees or something?"He thinks to himself.
The limousine lurches unexpectedly, and you hear something - several somethings - break against the side of the vehicle. Burning propellant drips against the windows.
"I'm sorry, Ryder-san," the driver says. "Protesters." There's the bloop-wail of a police siren, and a voice barking out orders for the crowd to disperse. In response, the limousine begins to rock. "Deploying anti-personnel measures."
You feel a chill run down your spine, fearing some heavy-handed countermeasure. A crump-hiss precedes a cloud of CS gas issuing from vents on the side of the underbody, forcing protesters back.
However, you are startled when Mika opens a small centerline console and takes out a 10mm Desert Eagle. A second one is easily available for your own use. She holds hers against the door, and you realize the limousine is fitted with a full executive security suite. CS gas. Bulletproof glass. Gun ports. There are likely Kevlar panels and armor surrounding the passenger compartment.
"... arrest," continues the stern voice. "LVPD will engage with non-compliant citiz- gakkkkk!"
You spin, looking for yet another threat. You can't see the officer that was attacked, but another man, also clad in tactical gear, is dropped by an arrow lancing through the visor of his helmet. There's a wild ululating cry as you see several other officers felled by arrows.
"Maenads!" another voice barks. "Return fire! Return fire! Ret-"
The limousine begins rocking again. "Come out and play-ay," a female voice taunts.
Hitoshi raises an eyebrow. "Sooo, This is the point I'm going to tel you that I am not your Hitoshi, and that I'm starting to think I'm in an alternate dimension. Now that that's out of the way, I need to know what in the fuck is going on with the situation, and I mean the world situation. Why are Meanads attacking us? Am I really that much of a douchbag in this universe?"
"You are Hitoshi Ryder," Mika says. "You are the Oyabun of the Kuro Kuren. If you feel you have left some part of yourself in an 'alternate dimension,' you will want to find it in the next few minutes.
"Suffice to say, there are those who believe people such as yourself should be 'doing more' to alleviate the suffering in the Dark Times. Douchebag? They see you as a scapegoat. Donate a thousand, a hundred thousand, a million, it does not matter. The Maenads and their leader see you and the authorities as the perpetrators of their misfortune. You must deal with them as you dealt with my father's clan. Those who oppose you must be struck down."
Hitoshi sighs. "I honestly have a feeling I am not going to like this new universe. Why can't I just go back to fighting Lymann." He mutters.
"Give me a quick rundown. How often do these Maenads attack, and just who is their leader?" He asks as he reaches to the floor for Honjo Masamune.
"They are unpredictable, although they have been getting bolder of late," Mika says. "No one knows who their leader is. She is said to be as charismatic as she is vicious."
A man's face is mashed against the window. "Hup mh," he mumbles. A moment later, there's the sharp report of a pistol, and he slides out of view, leaving a trail of gore behind. As a sharper crack/crunch sounds, you realize the byplay was a distraction. A tool like the Jaws of Life is being used to breach the car. You reach for Honjo Masamune and find only a plain wooden cane. There is, of course, the Desert Eagle sitting in the center console.
Hitoshi's eyes narrow at the realization that Honjo Masamune was not at his feet. "Ok, someones either fucking with me, or trying to teach me something." He Mutters. He grabs the gun and checks the chamber. He didn't like guns per say, and wasn't the best at them, but he knew enough to know how to shoot one. "I think they want in to say hello. How far away are we from the Westview, or whatever this version of me uses as home base?"
"I'll have to crash the police line," the driver says. "I apologize for any ... discomfort."
A hydraulic rescue tool crimps the roof and begins to peel it back. A horrific visage leers in at you: pinpoint pupils, stained teeth, smear of blood and viscera on its cheeks and lips. Matted, damp hair. You hear the driver rev the engine briefly. The vehicle jerks as he floors the pedal. At the same time, you realize there are now two maenads worrying at the roof line, and they are being carried with you. Hitoshi places the gun against the face of the Maenad peering at him and pulls the trigger, watching her head blow away.
"Forgive me, but I don't pick up hitchhikers."
He's slammed against the side of the car as the driver takes a sharp turn.
"Don't worry about throwing them off, Mika and I can take care of them, just concentrate on getting us back in one piece." He tells the driver.
"Hai!" acknowledges the driver. The car fishtails a little as it picks up speed.
The roar of the Desert Eagle is impressive. So is the damage it does to the Maenad. Her head explodes in a gout of gore and chunky gobbets of flesh. The body falls, its hand clinging stubbornly to the jagged edge of the roofline, and she is dragged for several blocks before the flesh finally tears away.
"Aaaaaah!" you hear Mika cry out, see the Maenad on her side halfway into the vehicle. There's a gash on Mika's arm that is welling red with blood, and she's no longer holding her gun.
Hitoshi hauls Mika over to his side of the car, jamming the Desert Eagle into the Maenad's open snarling mouth and pulls the trigger.
"I said no goddamn hitchhikers!"
He growls, getting annoyed. the car lurches, spoiling his aim and the bullet craters the security glass in the side window. The Maenad slides inside landing face first on the seat where Mika was sitting moments before. Hitoshi's foot lashes out, pinning the creatures neck against the door and the Desert Eagle barks once, twice, three times in rapid succession. The first two bullets damage door components, but the third one connect with its target and the body goes limp.
"And this is why I don't normally use handguns. I suck with them."
He pulls out a small under seat medical kit, and does a quick but ugly job of sterilizing and bandaging Mika's wound.
"You alright?" He asks softly.
"Stings," Mika says, gritting her teeth. "A handgun is no different than a sword or tonfa. They are tools that you can learn to master."
"Coming up on the checkpoint," the driver says, finally slowing.
You turn your gaze forward and see a fortified barrier closing off one end of the Strip. The limousine pulls past a steel barrier that is quickly lowered behind you. The driver stops on a yellow-striped area; you see remote cameras and some kind of detection rig dip down to examine the vehicle.
"… transporting Hitoshi Ryder and his executive assistant Mika Hanamura back to the Westview Grand," the driver explains. "We were attacked by Maenads en route from the new housing developments."
A squad of troops deploys upon an overlooking walkway, covering the vehicle.
"Sorry about this, folks - we're going to have to move you to quarantine," a voice informs you over a loudspeaker. "Please step out of the car. Anything in the trunk? Looks like a write-off, but some decent executive protection."
"No," says the driver. "It's a standard CCS Tier III."
You are taken into the bunker and hustled off to adjacent but separate rooms that are sparsely furnished. A bed, table, and chair. There's a bathroom with a stall shower, all done in institutional drab. A nurse enters shortly thereafter, accompanied by an MP.
"If you'll have a seat, Sir, I need to take your vitals and a blood sample," she says. "Are you current with your tetanus shots? You can get all sorts of nasty shit from Maenads."
"Tools they may be, but they are impersonal. It takes no honor to use a gun. I prefer the old methods." Hitoshi replies solemnly.
At the checkpoint he gets out, leaning on the cane and goes where directed.
"All my shots should be up to date Miss." He replies smiling grimly as he rolls up a sleeve.
"How is my Assistant doing?"
"I'm sure she's fine," the nurse tells you. "She'll be put on a course of antibiotics as a precaution, and we'll replace the dressing. That was a good job of field dressing."
She makes some notations.
"They didn't try to stick you with anything, did they? Needles, knives?" she asks. "No spittle or liquid thrown at you?"
You answer in the negative.
"All right, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but ... well, the colonel can explain it to you. The room is monitored, but there's a call button by the bed if you experience anything unusual - any pain, any dizziness, so on."
The nurse and the MP leave.
Twenty minutes later, the door opens again and a senior officer - the colonel the nurse mentioned - enters the room. He is dressed in digital camo utilities, with a sidearm on his left hip. His right hand is a articulated prosthetic. "Good morning, Mr. Ryder," he says. He doesn't offer to shake your hand. "I'm Colonel North."
North? You find yourself looking at the face of a friend ... and seeing a stranger. There's a much harder edge to this man, and - of course - a missing limb.
Hitoshi looks away after a moment. "Sorry, you reminded me of someone I know."
He sits back down. "What can I help you with Colonel? I know I'm not a terrorist so I'm happy to chat."
"Personally, I'd like to thank you for helping get the new housing development going. It's something we sorely needed," Colonel North says. "But the Maenads seem to be ramping up for something. I'm hoping you or your people might have seen something that would give us a clue as to what they're planning. Pushing past the I-15 Break doesn't make sense, unless they've been bringing in reinforcements."
Hitoshi shrugs. "They probably just hate me. You know how it is, People never appreciate the help you try to give others in need, or the sacrifices you make in the name of others,they always think you should do more,"
He gestures at Colonel's Norths arm.
"but I don't think I need to tell you that Colonel, you've already given your service, and more, and are still doing it. As for the housing development, No need to thank me, I have a duty to the people as one of the elite, and I will see that duty through to it's end."
He cracks his knuckles.
"So, tell me, you didn't lose that arm in a helicopter crash, did you?" He says the words, then waits for the reaction to come.
"There aren't many people on the other side of the Break who think anyone is doing much of anything," North tells you. "That's just the way it is. No one is happy that parts of the country are falling by the wayside, but it's hard to fix things while people are busy tearing them down."
"Helicopter crash?" he asks. The prosthetic hand flexes. "Nope. It was a manual safety - pull, twist, hold for three minutes. Great system, unless the Mudjehadeen are shelling the building. Got perforated by shrapnel, I'm lucky to be here."
Hitoshi grimaces. "Ouch. Well thank you for your service. Sorry other people don't feel the same as I do about it."
He relaxes. "So, what else can I do for you, considering I'm not sure why the Maenads were attacking me?"
"You're welcome," North says. "Rehabilitation was a challenge, but I'm not a quitter. Wasn't going to be some mopey-ass homebody at 24."
"But enough about me. You're the only one who got attacked. News crews, the Mayor, the Maenads didn't bother with them," he adds. "So either they fucked up their intel, or you were the target. Ransom, perhaps. Though I've heard rumors that your security people take their jobs seriously."
"Nah, their intel was right on I bet, and I realized i may have spoken too soon when i said i have no idea why they are attacking me, I might have an idea now that i thought about it as to why, but if I voice it you would slap me in a straitjacket and ship me off. Suffice to say, I doubt this will be the last time they decide to grace me with their presence." Hitoshi says sighing.
"Strategic value," North says. "It's something you know, something you possess, or something you are. You wouldn't happen to be privvy to launch codes, would you? Be President Wolf's son-in-law? Didn't think so.
"I'd tighten up security at home, or headquarters, whatever. If these crazy bitches want to start a shooting war, we're ready for them. Anyway, the doctors want to keep you overnight for observation, and while they run the blood panels on each of you.
"It's not that they're poisonous, it's just that Maenads tend to be disease carriers. You get bit, you can end up with a super infection that'll drop you like a rock."
"Mmm" Hitoshi says nodding. "Well they will find my security most difficult to get past, and even if they did, I'm no pushover."
Although quarantine is a bit like being in prison, the relative quiet and isolation gives you time to think about the changed world in which you find yourself.
This is a Hitoshi Ryder who is markedly more ruthless, or at least less temperate in his business dealings. A man who required a subordinate to perform yubitsume. And, if Mika's response was any indication, a man whose trusted agent, James Sokatsu, may be just as cold-blooded.
You find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror, wondering what twist of fate created the man you see. The absence of Honsho Masamune is disturbing - does it mean you are no longer a Scion, or simply that the Lord of Nets hasn't recognized a son who is more ronin than samurai? Or that he is the one pulling the strings, sifting through alternate outcomes to find the Hitoshi Ryder who will do as he's told?
No. That sounds too much like Lyman's sales pitch.
But how to get back to the way things should be? Save this world, rehabilitate it - or bring about its demise?
After two hours of staring at the cieling or trying to read the crappy Magazines left in the room, Hitoshi stands. 'Screw this, I need some air." He steps outside the room, and the two soldiers raise their weapons.
"What are you doing sir?" One asks uncertainly.
"I'm going into the courtyard for some air. If you are going to shoot me, then shoot me, if your going to follow, then follow, But I'm going for a walk inside the compound." With those words said he starts walking towards the doors that exit to the outside.
"It's this way, Right?"
"Sir, I'll say this once: return to your room," the MP frowns.
As you continue walking towards the nearest set of doors, you hear one MP calling for an immediate lockdown. You glance over your shoulder in time to see the other MP raising a bright yellow pistol.
You barely feel the darts lodge in your back, but their presence is made clear when the muscles in your legs spasm, and you fall to the floor, twitching. A corner of your mind tells you to get up, but the Taser has you curling into a ball.
"Withdraw," a voice says over a speaker. Colonel North. The MP's snap to attention and exit through the double doors. You hear the bolts engage. Without the Taser being engaged, you recover quickly enough, yanking the darts out of your skin and tossing them aside.
There's no place for you to go except back to your room, which you do. Whereupon you hear North's voice over another speaker.
"Have a seat. I'll be down to talk to you in a bit," he says.
He isn't long in showing up.
"I lied," he says. "I know exactly why the Maenads want you. You weren't kidding when you said you were among the elite. You have a specific genetic marker in your blood, though none of the eggheads seem to know what it is, precisely.
"But the Maenads believe you're connected to their gods or goddesses or whatever that pagan nonsense is. They want you for stud service, apparently."
Hitoshi frowns then cracks his neck and stands, He starts pacing the room with his hands crossed behind his back.
"Yea, I knew about the Marker. Remember when I said I knew something that you'd probably consider me crazy for? Yea, it has to do with that, and what I know. I also know you probably won't like it because it may include you."
He pauses. "You might have the same Markers because you might be like me."
"That doesn't tell me anything. I've had to do a lot of reading on this genetics nonsense because some lab coats back at Fort Detrick think it's important," North grumbles. "It's some kind of Illuminati garbage, like every other conspiracy theory that comes down the pike. New world order, space aliens, ancient gods."
"So what god or goddess are you supposed to be? And why do you think I'm part of the same club?"
Hitoshi shakes his head. "Nono, not a god. Its more like descendant of one. And mine is Hachiman. Yours, should be Tyr... if things hold true here. Have you been tested?"
He leans back in his chair. "Look, if I say anything more, I'm going to sound batshit crazy, instead of just crazy. What I will say is there's some pretty fucked up shit happening."
"Tyr? Doesn't ring a bell. All senior military commanders were tested. We didn't find out what they were testing for until months later," North tells you. "I hate to break the news to you, but I'm a Mark 1 Mod 0 human being. I'm not saying the marker doesn't exist, or that you don't have it - the blood tests will come back fast enough - but I ain't part of the club."
"Now, the Break hit everyone pretty bad. Got a lot of people worrying about End Times and the hereafter," he says. "People want to go run off to church or dance naked around a bonfire, that's up to them. But you start declaring yourselves sovereign powers with 'the truth,' me and my men are here to kick some goddamn sense into your behinds."
"Nope, not here to take over or start a religion. I'm just trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do in the place, kick any ass that needs to be kicked, and get back to where I belong. Right now though it appears the only thing for me to do is sit here till I can leave, or until I'm sure you will hear me out on anything I might have to say." Hitoshi replies with a flip of his hand.
"However, I do have one question, maybe two."
"Kicking ass is our job, Mr. Ryder. If you choose to go play with the Maenads, you're on your own," North says. "Now, neither you or your driver were injured, so we're probably safe in releasing you short of the precautionary quarantine. Your secretary is another thing. She has to stay for the full period."
"Oh, and the disinterested millionaire thing? Stow it. You had your chance to be up front, and you wanted to go for a walk. We cut you loose, and now you want to bend my ear. I don't know what planet you come from, but that's not how we do business in the National Guard."
Hitoshi holds up his hands. "Look Colonel North I honestly don't mean to give you the run around but please see it from my view, would you want to be viewed as crazy even by today's standards with wild women running around? All I wanted to do was get some fresh air and try to figure out what I should explain and how I should say it, and no one said I wasn't allowed to go out of my room till I stepped out. As for Mika, I'm not leaving without her. She's one of mine and I'll stand by her just as much as you'd stand by your own. So I have plenty of time. The question is, how much do you have and will you do me the honor of listening and not calling me crazy? Because I know, or knew a man by the name if Alex North who served in the Army and he would have. The first part is what you two gave in common, do you gave the second?"
He looks at the man with a tired defeated look on his face.
"Because I honestly have no idea what us going on here. I don't know this world, I don't know what the break is, and I want to go home, because I'm not from around here."
"The only person calling you crazy is yourself, Mr. Ryder," North tells you. "Sergeant Rogers asked you to return to your room, and you ignored him."
"If you have information, then let's hear it. If there's any more of this secret bullshit, we're done, and you'll be remanded to another unit, because my only concern is keeping this half of Vegas safe from the other half."
"That means making sure someone who was attacked by those roving germ bags - the Maenads - didn't infect your lady friend with a contagious pathogen."
He looks at you with narrowed eyes at your last words.
"You don't know this world? Pardon my French, but what the fuck does that mean? This is the only world we have, Ryder. Maybe it's fucked up more than we'd like it, but it's the only one we've got. It comes down to a simple choice. You're with us, or you're with them.
"I'd like to be home, too. I'd like to be teaching my son to play baseball. I'd like to sleep with my wife again. But I'm here, running a security cordon that's on the edge of becoming a no-man's land. So don't give me shit about wanting to go home. Go hop aboard your private jet and go there.
"The rest of us have a job to do."
"Okay then. Well here goes. No, this world isn't the only one. At least I don't think it is. Where I come from I am the CEO of the Westview Grand hotel, and I'm also the son of the Japanese god Hachiman. You are there as well only you are not a Colonel, you are retired and are now a Las Vagas Attorney, and the son of the Norse god Tyr, the one armed god of justice. You survived a helicopter crash btw after being shot down by an rpg. There are two other people in our little group, one Evie Cartwright, a Las Vegas detective and daughter of Heimdal, and one Lya Bach, singer, and daughter of Dyonises. Together we fought a man named Jason Lymann, who wanted to destroy the world. He even somehow managed to bring in a giant ice fortress and cast Vegas into a deep cold winter. We stormed the fortress and I took on him and his bodyguards. The fortress started disentigrating into a wormhole into the sky, and when I left, I suddenly ended up on this I guess you would call it, another world. I seriously know nothing about this place other than its Vegas. "
He holds out both wrists.
"You want to clap me in irons, so be it, you want to dissect me? Ok. But I'd rather you help me"
"Mmmm-hmm. An alternate Las Vegas. An alternate Alex North. Two women I've never heard of. And you're really the CEO of the Westview Grand?" North frowns. "See that guy in the mirror? That's Hitoshi Ryder, the CEO of the Westview Grand. He's standing next to Alex North, a colonel in the National Guard. There's no 'other' anything.
He takes out a pair of handcuffs and slaps them on your wrists.
"You get to be someone else's problem. Maybe you can call the President and call in a favor."
He leaves the room. Less than ten minutes later, Sgt. Rogers returns. "Well, well. You get your wish. Time to go for a walk."
He backs out through the door and motions for you to follow.
Hitoshi sighs. "Seargent, you and I started off on the wrong foot. My apologies, it's been a rough day. All I'd like is to check on my assistant before we leave to see if she's okay. Could that possibly be swung? After that, I meekly follow you wherever needed."
"We'll pass her room on the way out, but you won't be allowed to speak to her. Kind of defeats the purpose of quarantine," Rogers says. "Oh, and don't get cute. I'm not carrying a Taser this time, wa-karry-mass?"
"Come on, let's go see your girl."
He walks you past Mika's room. She's sitting at the desk, her head propped up on one hand, and pretending to read a magazine...
Hitoshi bows. "Dommo Arigato Seargent." He quietly follows the man down the hallway to Mika's cell.
"If there's a protocol for quarantine, there must have been other incidents," you point out. "What are the signs?"
"Fever, delirium, bulging eyes," Rogers says. "Eggheads are still trying to figure out what it is. The rumor is that it's like that Mad Cow stuff, you get it from eating infected meat, only this is worse - it spreads from blood-to-blood contact. They don't think it's airborne. Yet."
"If she doesn't come down with it, they'll probably want to fly her off to Detrick and do more tests. An antibody means we can fight it."
After you watch for a long moment, he prompts you to move on. You are taken upstairs and outside - to the other side of the checkpoint. There's a city cab waiting for you.
"Your limo is a write-off. It'll be held until you and your people figure out what you want to do with it," he says.
Your driver holds the cab door for you, then gets into the front passenger seat. He gives the destination to the driver.
It doesn't take long to reach the Westview, though it's not the resort you are familiar with. Gone are the hotel and corporate towers, the property now consisting of several glassy domes - a casino/entertainment megaplex, a hotel/convention venue, and the corporate offices.
"Nan des ...?" the doorman asks when he sees you emerge from the plebian transport. Your driver pays the fare and tips the driver well, bidding her a good day.
"Sure thing," the driver says. "You need a ride, give us a call."
It is only as the vehicle is pulling away that you realize where you've heard the driver's voice before. Evie Cartwright. You turn, but she's already pulling out into the street, leaving you with nothing but the cab number and the dispatch line.
It does not escape your notice that a security detail forms ranks about you as you enter the resort. The ambiance of the Westview is familiar and surprisingly comforting - the whirr and ding-ding-ding of slot machines, the call-outs of croupiers, and the murmur of patrons as they pursue their dreams of winning it big.
The connecting passage to the executive dome seems benign, though multiple cameras indicate it is monitored. There's an LED mounted in a piece of decorative moulding, and a faint beep tells you that there's some kind of keycard or security dongle on your person. Several feet further down the corridor, you hear a faint tick-tick-tick of a full-body scanner.
You pass through tinted glass doors into a lobby done in a mixture of classical Japanese and Tomorrowland - the 'workplace of the future' mindset.
"Good morning, Mr. Ryder," a receptionist smiles.
It takes you a moment, but you recognize Akane's voice - though the receptionist is clearly not her. A robot? If so, it's an advanced model - her body is in full view, and her movements seem fully natural.
The security detail forms an outward-facing semi-circle as you wait for the elevator, waiting for you to enter before following. You emerge into an office that is unfamiliar in style. An executive desk sits upon a broad dais, while a shorter conference table lay perpendicular to it.
On the wall behind and above the desk, a daisho - paired katana and wakisashi - that you don't recognize. Beneath it, on a stand, is a broken katana that you do recognize.
It's Honjo Masamune.
Hitoshi stares at Honjo Masamune for a second. "Arigato men, now leave me please." He says softly, but loud enough for them to hear. He waits till they are gone, then reverently picks up the broken remains of the sword.
"I don't understand what's happening. I know there must be a reason I am here but I don't know what it is."
He turns around suddenly. "Father, I call on you! Show yourself! I'm not going to play whoever ' s game this is without knowing why!"
His eyes flash in anger and his fists clench so tightly that the broken bits of sword cut into his flesh.
"Hell if Dad came down here I'd say fuck you to him as well. At least I'm an equal opportunity asshole."
The sound of your own words cuts deeper than the shards of Honjo Masamune.
" I don't give one fuck about Honor. I threw Honor away the day my blood was imbued with my Fathers power. I now walk ten steps ahead of Death."
And then, a stern voice that now seems like a distant memory. Hachiman, the Lord of Nets.
"You have the gall to demand answers from me?" his voice echoes in your ears. "You stand where your choices have placed you. Honor is not a game."
"Perhaps you will come to understand when you've come to terms with what you are," you hear Lyman's voice chide.
"What do you want, and what do you expect of me?" Hachiman asks.
Hitoshi rounds on his father, anger flashing in his eyes. His hand raises and he opens his mouth to speak. Then, just as quickly, his hand falls, the anger dies, and he sighs.
"Your right, my actions did get me here, and those words were said, even if only in anger, they still passed my lips. But how does one fight with honor when the enemy has none?"
He drops to his knees, bowing his head.
"I don't understand, I want to be a good person and protect those I care about, but it's too easy to eschew honor when the other side has none."
He pauses. "I've been angry with you still for not saving Akane, I demanded your apology, but now I understand that it is I who should ask for your forgiveness. I understand that could you have saved her, you would have...
Can you forgive an erring child who might yet learn the proper way?"
The stern visage of a Noh mask resolves in the air before you.
"Does the eagle ask permission before it flies?" Hachiman tells you. "Honor is both a path and a choice. It is found where body and spirit walk together, not in the desire or passion that calls to one or the other."
"But you are enmeshed in a test, to see if you can be led away from Bushido," your father warns. "Who is Hitoshi Ryder? The reluctant student must, at last, choose his path. You have spoken of sacrifice, but you are conflicted; sacrifice is not the asceticism of the monk. It is a calling to a higher purpose. You are the satetsu that must be refined before it can be forged into a sword.
"When you know who you are, you will find your sword."
The mask vanishes.
"Typical," chides another voice. A raspy thing of darkness and creeping shadow. Izanami. "Set the bar so high the child cannot reach it, and then berate them for failing to do so. This is not a game. Until you know what you want, you will be a pawn."
"When you know what you want, you will be a sword."
A barely noticeable wisp of midnight-black smoke retreats through a black marble facade along one wall, and you instinctively understand this is where Hitoshi - this world's Hitoshi - has established his shrine to Izanami.
Gathering yourself somewhat, you sink into the executive chair at your desk. Though there are a few items awaiting your review, the desk is largely free of clutter. There is a small bronze figurine of Goro Masamune working his forge; a simple touch-panel for some kind of computer interface; and a couple of photos - what looks to be yourself and Akane at your wedding, and one of a ribbon-cutting outside of the Westview.
Among the crowd are familiar faces - your mother, Karen Ryder, standing off to one side in the shade. James Sokatsu, who you almost fail to recognize because of a neatly-trimmed moustache/goatee. But none of the Board of Directors you are familiar with.
That's just not fair, you tell yourself. On one hand, Hachiman being the stern father who wasn't there, but somehow still expects you to surpass the goals he has set; on the other, Izanami, who protected the Westview for the bulk of Fimbulwinter, or whatever it was.
And then there's Akane. Alive. Your wife. Whether it's simply a bribe or something more sinister, whoever is messing with reality has struck close to home ...
Hitoshi reaches over and picks up the picture, staring at the group, and wondering how different each of them were compared to the ones he knew before. After a moment he set the picture down and stood back up.
"Now is not the time to beat yourself up about decisions made in the past, or another dimension. Now's the time to take stock and see whats changed and see what you can do to make the best of this universe. Only then can you find a solution to your problem."
He thinks as he takes a step out of his office to walk among his employees.
"Ohayo, Ryder-san," your secretary smiles as you leave. She is a human secretary, not a robotic receptionist as in the lobby. "You have lunch with James Sokatsu at the President's Club at 12:30. Your calendar is clear for the afternoon."
You nod to show you heard the reminder, and make your way through the dome, which houses not only the business end of the Westview Group, but your subsidiaries - properties acquired through means legitimate and not-so legitimate, but which are now secure under your corporate umbrella. The employees there answer to their own superiors, and know you only as a top executive. Still, there's a discernible tension in the air.
The casino floor is already bustling, but that's not unusual for Las Vegas, even with the Break. Had you not had your run-in with the Maenads, you doubt you'd even know that was an issue in this ... future? Alternate reality?
Hitoshi looks around. The tension of the employees made him uneasy and a bit sad. In his world he had made an effort to know his employees.
"I'm going to have to change things a bit if I am going to continue to live in this world. Distance is not good for this job." He thinks as he walks through the floor.
He stops a passing cocktail waitress and takes a quick glance at her name tag. "Shiela, where is my mother at this hour?"
"Mr. Ryder!" the woman says, surprised. "I wouldn't know."
She gives a polite half-bow, nothing more than a nod, before excusing herself.
"Ryder-san," says a man in a dark suit. His nametag identifies him as one of your Pit Bosses, a roving supervisor responsible for a cluster of gaming tables. "Bucho-no-Ryder is in the Operations Center. Is there a problem?"
Hitoshi shakes his head. "No Michael, I just got back and was simply wondering where my moth... I mean The Director was. I thought she might be out walking the floor."
He bows. "Thank you. I shall head to operations then. Keep up the good work."
He starts walking back towards the areas behind the scenes.
"That woman was afraid of me. Is this me really that mean of a man?" He mutters to himself.
You aren't sure whether it was genuine fear or simply surprise at seeing the CEO on the casino floor. Your presence was enough to bring a senior pit boss to your side.
The Operations Center is nothing like you remember; every casino on the Strip has one, of course, watching for mischief-makers and cheats, but this is like walking into a cross between the bridge of a futuristic starship and a theater-in-the-round exhibit. The circular walls are flat video panels subdivided into the feeds from security cameras throughout the complex. Stations are devoted to everything from the casino floor to the elevators and maintenance facilities.
At the center of the room, there is a dais with its own ring of monitors and communications, with a deep executive chair at its center. The spider in its web, you think ... a moment before you realize that Karen is sitting there, in her role as head of casino operations.
"Hitoshi," she says. "Welcome home."
Hitoshi bows low.
"Good day Mother, How has the casino been running in my short absence?"
During the walk to the Operations Center, he had decided to not let on to anyone else until he knew fully how this world was different from the one he knew.
He snags an empty chair and sits down, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands in his lap.
"Oh, absolutely horrible," she says. "Card counters, cheats, and someone just ran the bank at the craps table."
She smiles. "A silly question, Hitoshi. If there's someone who wants to try their hand at taking down the Westview, I wish them luck. And a generous insurance plan."
Hitoshi smiles back at his mother.
"Well I don't think they will ever stop. However, I was talking about internally. I should have come out and phrased it better though admittedly. No, I want to know about our employees. I have decided to run a better company, no more of this sitting on the sidelines being the mysterious figure of a CEO. Our Employees are our most important asset and a happy Employee will provide better work for the Casino."
He pauses to let his words sink in.
"What I need from you is a list of all our Employees, and what part of the Casino they work in. Sadly, having a meeting of all the employees at once is counterproductive to running the Casino itself, but Meeting with two or three here and there will let me get a better feel into my company and the needs of those who perform the day to day tasks."
"The pay and benefits package at the Westview is among the top ten in America," Karen said. "And that was before the Break. We've held to a standard other corporations have quailed at. I'm not sure what more you expect to do, but I will have Melissa collate the information for you and deliver it to your office."
Hitoshi nods.
"Thank you mother. I simply wish to get to know my employees better."
He stands and puts the chair back where it belongs.
"Consider it me stepping out of the shadows and being more than the face at the top." He says smiling.
"Yes well the last CEO tried something similar and we ended up with one of the Cage Bankers stealing from the Casino. It was a nasty affair, do I'd advise you to be careful Hitoshi." He mother says, a note of disapproval in her tone. However, the note was not for him, but for the former CEO that ran the company before him.
Hitoshi steps on the dais and give his mother a quick peck on the cheek.
"Hitoshi,you know I don't like that! It undermines my authority!" His mother scolds him.
Hitoshi's laugh flows back as he leaves the room, along with his words.
"Nothing could ever undermine that, Mother."
He heads back down the hallway towards his office, but stops, instead deciding to stroll through the other domes to see what the company was all about, and maybe put a little shock into the lives of his employees by coming down off the high horse.
Learning about the Westview is an education in itself. There is the Executive Dome, of course - your offices and a private residence that is considerably more than a penthouse apartment, but a much more expansive casino environment, from low-bid tables to tournament-style poker play. There's a smoke-filled sports betting lounge, lit by the glow of monitors showing events from around the globe and the odds. There are the smaller clubs and a large event venue, as well as meeting space to rival the Las Vegas Convention Center.
The hotel is the least changed, though the rooms and overall space is much more generous. Most of the shops and restaurants look out over a promenade/park, but the premiere establishment is the Star Dome - a restaurant at the pinnacle of the building, capped with a ceiling that mirrors the sky outside, and shows a clear night sky - untainted by Vegas' sky glow - during the evening.
Through it all, you notice the extensive camera system, and you think of Karen's watchful eye looking in on everything. A spider in her web, in some ways.
You're also mindful of your full-goose turnout - an expertly-tailored business suit that weathered an attack on your car and your person, and consider 'dressing down' before your tour.
Hitoshi looks down at his clothes. "Okay, even Lya wouldn't go out looking like this." He mutters to himself.
He looks at the signs heading towards his residence with the intent to change. People pass him in the hallways, some look away, others look at him in amazement considering he is out without his guard. At least it appears so.
"That's another thing that will need to change. The old me may have hidden behind a bodyguard, but this new one is gonna take charge and get shit done." He thinks with a determined look in his eyes.
There are no signs, but you are able to easily determine the location from the restricted access and private elevator. Outside your residence is a glassed-in foyer - the glass thick enough to take a bullet. Security personnel see you approach, and open the door. They bow respectfully; you catch a glimpse of an elaborate tattoo under one man's shirt cuff, and realize your security detail is made up of members of the Black Cranes.
The residence has a palm-lock, which opens to your touch.
The apartment is modern, but the design is informed by classic Japanese motifs - there are wooden beams and shoji screens, but there are also contemporary walls and amenities. There is a spacious patio and pool to the west. A zen garden, adjoined by a small dojo, is to the east.
You can hear voices from a nearby room, a young child being lessoned by a tutor. Though there are playful overtones, the conversation is respectful and on-topic, a lesson in Japanese. Moving to the door, you see the child is a young girl, perhaps 5 or 6 years old, with her black hair bound back in a ponytail. She is wearing a pink skirt, white blouse, and tennis shoes.
She notices her instructor glance in your direction, but continues reciting the sentence she was being given, with both affirmative and negative conjugation. Finished, she still does not look behind her, but sits politely at her desk, waiting for either a continuation of the lesson, or permission to turn around.
The instructor gives a small nod; the girl rises from her desk, bows formally, and then turns and runs pell-mell into you.
"Otoko oya!" she exclaims. "I knew it was you."
"Oh? And how is that?" you smile. Damn. You have a daughter.
"Because your footsteps are heavier than mine," another voice says from behind you.
You recognize the woman's voice, because you've heard it in your dreams for years. Akane.
"Are you joining us for lunch?" she asks.
"No. I have a lunch meeting with James," you say.
"So desu ka," she says. I see.
She reaches up to your jacket lapel and feels it - or, rather, a small tear left from the morning's misadventure. She gives you a questioning look, but says nothing else as she hugs you. No worries about undermining one's authority on this end, thank you very much.
Perhaps this world is fucked up, but there are some very nice things about it.
Hitoshi looks at Akane. "You have no idea how much I missed you." He smiles down at her.
Stepping back he takes in the whole view of his family. "Was this what I got from sparing Daisuke? One simple act of Honor and Mercy changed the world."
"Akane, I must change my suit and prepare for the meeting with James. However, I shall meet you and our lovely daughter for dinner tonight. You two pick the place."
"Uncle Mitch!" your daughter pipes up. At least it's a name you recognize - Mitch is an old friend, the sushi chef at the Westview (you'd acquired the Rising Sun before this, but didn't want to move the staff or the location).
"Asami-chan," the tutor says quietly. "We must continue."
Your daughter pouts for a moment, then brightens and heads back to the 'classroom' with youthful energy that you don't ever remember having - at least not in regards to schoolwork.
You excuse yourself to your bedroom and mull over your choice of less formal clothing.
"Good morning, Ryder-sama," intones a cultured voice over a hidden speaker. "How may I assist you?"
You are briefly surprised, but realize that this version of Hitoshi Ryder has some serious tech clout in his portfolio - an android receptionist, and now an intelligent agent ...
Hitoshi blinks for a second then recovers.
"Umm yes. Suits. I need a selection. The one I am wearing has been damaged during an excursion and I have a lunch meeting with James."
He says as he quickly gets undressed. He watches as the Closet opens and a rack of suits, ties and shoes slides out into the room.
"Black suit, Red shirt, black tie. Black Oxfords." The racks spin until his selections appear, suits on top, shirts hung neatly pressed inside them, with the ties hanging next to them. The shoes sat underneath.
He quickly grabs his selection and starts getting dressed. Suddenly he gets an idea to test these AI's.
"Also, Mika is being held by the army, Notify our people so that our lawyers can write up paperwork for her release, and they better put a lot of pressure on the army. I won't have my people experimented on. If that doesn't work, we may have to resort to other measures."
"Hai, Ryder-sama," the AI replies. "Would you like me to call Speaker Malcolm?"
You pause. Although you are aware that Bob Malcolm has enjoyed the Westview's facilities in the past - both for fundraisers and his dalliances - this Hitoshi is apparently more of a political animal than yourself, including holding aspirations to office for himself.
"Umm yes. Please do. The faster we can get Miss Hanamura out of the hands of the Military, the better."
Hitoshi replies trying to tie his Tie properly for the sixth time.
"Son of a..." He almost says "Bitch" but holds his tongue, not wishing for his daughter to hear such language.
He walks out of the bedroom, still trying to tie the tie.
"Seriously, I hate these things."
You emerge from the bedroom in fresh clothes and looking decidedly less post-apocalyptic than before. Akane sees you struggling with your tie and moves to help you.
"Twice around, over, under and through," she says teasingly, lending a hand. Her fingers move with grace, and she finishes the knot, pulling it snug to your collar.
And then she kisses you.
Your smartphone rings, and it's the AI putting you through to Congressman Bob Malcolm.
"Ryder! Getting cold feet?" he chuckles. "Not that I blame you. Air's kind of thin up here on Olympus. Takes some getting used to. But a little bird tells me you haven't filed your paperwork yet.
Shit. The sitting Speaker of the House is backing your run for Congress?
"It's up to you, of course, but the timing will never be better," he points out. "Anyway, that robot butler of yours said you needed to talk to me ... urgently. What's the deal?"
You explain your run-in with the Maenads, and ... disagreement with Colonel North.
"All right. We can smooth things over, get your assistant released if her blood panel comes back clean. But, Hitoshi-san, you're going to have to make nice with North. I know he can be a hard case, but he's got a rep as a war hero. The President is thinking of tapping him for a slot on JSOC, the Joint Special Operations Command."
Hitoshi sighs. "Yeah, you're right. I'd rather have him as a friend than as an enemy. Look, as for the Congress issue, I completely spaced on it after the neighborhood rebuild." He says running his hand through his hair, kissing his wife on the cheek afterwards.
"I don't want to be one of those congressmen that say they are going to get shit done, then sit on their asses, I WILL get what I say done even if I have to use my own money to do it. If your on board and okay with backing that kind if person, then let's do this, I'm ready to make a stand and change the world... well my piece of it anyway, and if that means with my own two hands, then so be it."
"Good man," Malcolm tells you. "Get your paperwork submitted, and we'll be off and running. Still an election to win, but it's a special election and you're running with no serious opposition, other than fringe candidates.
People are inclined to go with the favorite son.
"You won't have to worry about debates. A couple of solid commercials, some photo ops, and you'll be set. Folks don't want another weepy liberal trying to stitch things back together. They want to move the country forward.
"I'll make a couple of phone calls about your girl. Mika Hanamura, right?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"We'll make it happen," Malcolm assures you. He hangs up.
"Bob Malcolm?" Akane asks. "So you're going to do it?"
She hugs you.
"I'm proud of you," she says.
Hitoshi smiles.
"Well someone has to make this world a better place for you and Asami. Might as well be me if I can do it." Hitoshi says softly.
His watch beeps notifying him he has 30 minutes till the meeting.
"I should get going. I plan on walking through the casino areas before the meeting. It's all part of my plan to be more present in the lives of the employees as head of the company."
He kisses Akane and then goes over and kisses Asami on top of the head, breaking the usual tradition of being distant during her lessons.
"Bye, Papa," Asami says before returning to her classwork.
There are no other interruptions as you return to the casino dome, though the thirty minutes pass more quickly than you expect, possibly because the other you seemed to have a sense of urgency, a deliberate quality to his actions.
Still, it's enough for an initial re-assessment of things. You'd guess that your pit bosses and floor security are drawn from your Yakuza resources - they are mostly Japanese. Your dealers and croupiers are congenial, but keep the pace up.
"Excuse me," you stop one cocktail waitress. "Could you get me a San Pellegrino?"
"Certainly, S- Mr. Ryder," she smiles. She is surprised, just like the last woman, but not fearful. You watch as she delivers the drinks she had on her tray, hit several more tables for orders, and then whisk off to the bar. She's back with your mineral water in less than ten minutes.
"Do you need anything else, Sir?"
"Just a quick question, I was wondering, how is your job? Is there anything I can do or any change I can implement in order to improve working conditions for you and the other cocktail waitresses here at the Westview?" Hitoshi asks conversationally.
"The Westview has done more than any other employer in Vegas. After the Break, most casinos were cutting back on hours and wages," she tells you. "But not here. Not even for new employees like myself."
You take note of the woman's name tag - Barbara ... didn't Lya say something about a young woman with that name? Fleeing from an abusive boyfriend and ... pregnant with a Scion.
"How's your kid?" you ask on a long shot.
"Petey? He's doing great, thank you!" she beams. "Like I said, if it weren't for the Westview, I'd be stuck with that mot- er ... my ex. I know it may sound like I'm asking for more, but there are people on staff who ... well, they're stuck, left high and dry because the university crashed. Some kind of distance learning thing, or a path upward."
Hitoshi raises an eyebrow. "Really? Allright, heres what I want you to do. I have a meeting in a few minutes, but it shouldn't last more than an hour. I'm giving you permission to gather these people in one point five hours and bring them, all of them to my office. I want to talk to all of you. I won't let any of my employees go without the education they have struggled for, just because the university fails them. I will find a way to get you all back on track."
"We're scattered across several shifts," Barbara says. "I have a daytime slot so I can leave Peter with a nanny. But I'll see who is here. Thank you, again. I'd better get back to work."
She bustles off.
You meet James Sokatsu at the Star Dome and are shown to a private table. Two waiters are tasked solely to your table - something that isn't all that unusual at five-star venues. Both the chef and the front-of-house staff will pull out the stops for an important food writer like Ruth Reichel or another restaurateur.
"Heard you had some excitement coming back from the development," Sokatsu says. "I can let some of the Invisible Hand off their leash, if you'd like. The Guard is capable, but - they're the Guard. They have rules, and uniforms, and identifiable vehicles. We don't."
The reference to what was, in your own reality, Toshiro Kimura's clan is surprising. They still exist, in some form, though since the original was beholden to Izanami, you find it hard to believe that would have changed.
"The Guard is holding Mika for blood tests - one of the Maenads drew blood, so they're worried she might have some icky, contagious disease," you relate. "I've spoken to Bob Malcolm, called in a favor - he'll put the screws on Colonel North to get her released. And, it's official - I'm running for Congress."
"That will be fun," Sokatsu smiles. "Congressman Malcolm is an accomplished political player, but you and I do things a little differently, neh?"
Hitoshi smiles. "You and I get things done, James. We do what we must to provide for those we watch over."
He takes a drink of his wine and a bite of his lunch.
"So, whats on the agenda today? My apologies, but in the rush and the attack on my person and Mika, I am afraid I have had a slight memory lapse. I think I'm getting old."
He grins at the joke.
"Nobu Muramasa continues to be a problem," James says. "He doesn't like the clans being brought together under unified leadership - yours - and is encouraging others to rebel while keeping his own hands clean. I understand Mika is his sister, but at some point, we're going to have to play hardball with the asshole. And I mean, hardball, not yubitsume or administrative punishment."
"Of course, this kind of nonsense is ruffling feathers in the National Police Bureau. If we don't take care of Muramasa, they will. And some of our people will be caught up in the mess."
Hitoshi folds hid hands. "Hmm, you are correct that he's become a problem, and eventually will need to be dealt with... As I just said though, that's an eventually. I'm thinking we slowly pull our people away one by one, and then when they are safe and have no involvement to be implicated of we give the NPB what they want."
He presses his lips into a thin line while he thinks, then after a moment grins.
"But that's a bit down the road. Right now I have the company, and my family to look after, as well as the situation with Mika, but hopefully that will be resolved soon."
Eating a bite of the Salmon fillet that he ordered he shakes his head.
"Man, they really did well on this fish." He sets his fork down and gestures to James.
"I'm tired of shop talk right now. Tell me, what's new in your world?"
"There are those within the Black Lightning clan who see the wisdom of our path. I will see to it they are ... appraised of the situation. The NPB will not want to get into a fight, however. Isao Murmasa structured them like one trains a vicious dog," James says. "We will select a handful of their top people, including Nobu, to make an example of. If the rest of the clan does not wish to cooperate, then more direct measures will be required. I can handle that, as usual."
James takes a couple of bites of his steak. It is on the rare side.
"What is new in my world? Your portfolio remains robust, thanks to sound financial advice," he chuckles. "There are CEOs who didn't do half as well as you did. Which is fine, actually. Gets rid of some of the deadwood and makes room for men and women with vision. I don't want my goddaughter to grow up with the same old thing; I want her to be able to claim her heritage and do whatever she damn well wants to."
Hitoshi chuckles. "She will for now, but eventually she will need to learn responsibility and that life is not all fun and games."
He finishes off his glass of wine. "But until then, let her be the child she is well into her teens, growing up can wait a while."
He sets the empty glass down and waves away the waiter who comes to refill it. Then he finishes off his meal.
Once done, he looks back up. "Well James, if that's all we need to talk about, I have a meeting with some employees."
"Is there a problem with our people?" he asks quietly, underscoring that he is the de-facto enforcer for the Cranes. "I would hate to think things are getting out of hand because I am spending time in Japan."
Hitoshi shakes his head and holds up a hand.
"No, no, nothing like that. Some of our non-shadow employees had their further education canceled on them during the break. Apparently the university went under and they were left high and dry. I'm looking into ways that Westview could allow them to continue their educations."
"A generous gesture," James smiles. "One that works to your benefit and maintains a favorable public facade. What will you do when the rest of America expects the same from Congressman Ryder? Not to mention which, I suspect Speaker Malcolm wants the Oyabun - even if he doesn't realize that's what he's looking for - rather than a samurai mired in admirable, but outdated mores."
Hitoshi spreads his hands. "Look at sweden, and other countries. They have free, or duscounted education. It's time the United States steps up in that area. However, admittedly, i was only doing it for the benefit of my employees and their children, but you mentioned it, so it's a good campaign thing to stand on."
He smiles.
"The only reason the deplorable state of American education exists is because those in charge profit from it," James says. "Much in the way politicians argue about minimum wage whilst ignoring the metric of 'poverty level' - something that, once you fall below it, you become invisible to those who matter."
"Well if I'm going to run, I am sticking by what I say. First I'm starting here at home, then expand outwards with changes for the people." Hitoshi replies as he wipes his mouth with the napkin.
He stands and holds out a hand. "Well James, keep up the good work on both ends. I have to jet back to the office. Work never seems to stop."
James takes care of the tip - leaving a generous amount - and bids you farewell.
"I'll be in town for another day or two. You know how to find me if you need me."
Mindful of your pending conference call with Toshiro Kimura, you make your way to the staff 'break area' - a lounge that is more than simply table, chairs, and poorly-filled vending machines. Barbara Griffin has gathered a dozen of her co-workers.
"A few people might walk in partway, we're almost on shift change," she says. "It was hard enough holding down a job and trying to squeeze in a class or two at the University. And, with the Break, a physical campus isn't practical - it requires power, resources, security. Are you talking about a distance learning set-up?"
*It is not necessary that you be familiar with the terms and concepts of distance learning or online education. Assure them their educational needs can be met without costing them on the job front, and you're gold.
Hitoshi pulls up a chair and flipping it backwards, sits down. "My reply to that is, what works best for all of you? I believe education is important, and if my employees are not getting the education they want then I need to solve that problem. If distance learning is the solution you all want then, that's what I'm going to go for. However, if I need to find a way to give you all a brick and mortar place then I will do that instead."
He stands again and walking over to the coke machine, swipes his card and pulls out a mountain dew. Cracking the seal he takes a long drink.
"If you all are committed to continuing or beginning your education, then I'm committed to making sure you get it. If it's distance, then i'll get you laptops, or setup a computer lab here in one of the empty rooms and give you all paid time off for those class times when you need to take them within reason in either of the two cases, However..."
He points the bottle at the gathered assembly of people.
"You have to stick with it and earn the grade, no quitting. If you quit, I'll make you pay the company back a little each time, just like any student loan the government would give."
He spreads his hands. "The choice is your folks. I'm here and willing to support my employees... you just have to speak up."
He folds his hands in front of himself and leans against the wall.
"That ... that sounds great," one employee says. "A space here with computers, so we're not floundering around with old laptops?"
"You might need to offer a daycare option for single mothers," Barbara Griffin says. "We can't be away from our families for both work and school."
"How fast are we looking at this? Most distance learning setups are already booking for their fall classes," another employee asks.
Hitoshi pushes off the wall and walks across the room.
"Alright, I will get on that immediately. By the end of the day we will have a room. By the end of tomorrow, computers will be setup and they can run off the company's network lines. I should be able to have a daycare option by the end of the week if not sooner. In two days though, you all should be able to register for your fall classes."
He smiles. "Now, I need to get going so that I can get the ball rolling on this. Those of you getting off work, have a good rest of your day. Those of you coming on, remember to do your best..."
He turns to leave and stops. "Oh, and smile." He throws back over his shoulder with a grin.
"Goddamn, Barb, did you put happy pills in Ryder's corn flakes?" asked one employee after Hitoshi was down the hall and out of earshot.
"_He_ approached me, actually," said Barbara. "Asked how my kid was doing, and if there was anything he could do to help."
"I've been working here for four years, and he's always been behind a wall of bodyguards, or there's Sokatsu, or one of the pit bosses," said another worker. "I'll take it."
"Maybe it's his running for Congress. Can't win over the people if your employees are suffering."
You sit down at your desk. Toshiro Kimura calls precisely on time. It is a video call. You are surprised to see a vital and energetic executive, not some feeble husk whose life-force had been expended in service to Izanami.
"Good Morning, Toshiro. You are looking well," you greet him.
"As are you, Ryder-sama," he smiles. "Married life suits you. How is my favorite niece?"
"Growing by leaps and bounds," you smile. "Anything to report?"
"Sokatsu-san will have told you about Nobu Muramasa," Kimura says. "We have people in position to effect his ... retirement from the field. You need but give the word."
Realizing that Kimura was also possibly part of his underworld empire, Hitoshi shakes his head and folds his hands on his desk. "No, I don't think it's needed... yet."
He leans back in his chair. "Beyond Muramasa, has anything else gone on recently that I should know about, What are our assets looking like?"
"Our house is in good financial health," Kimura smiles. "Sokatsu-san is a shrewd investment advisor and helped identify where our assets were exposed to undue risk."
"The Invisible Hand prospers. The goddess is clearly pleased with your stewardship, Ryder-sama."