ATTENTION: THIS STORY IS A SEQUEL TO "OFFICER SAOTOME", A FIC I COMPLETED IN 2010.
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Catharsis
Chapter 7 - Out in the Streets, They Call it Murder
December 7th, 20XX.
Goldmoon Athletic Center
Tokyo, Japan.
1509 Hrs
"Hey, did you hear?"
"You talking about that failed pickup in Sumida? Everyone's talking about it."
"Yeah man, crazy isn't it?
"I heard they had one of Laptev's guys there. Heard he bit the dust."
"Hey man, no one knows nothing about nothing. It just happened, man. It's all hearsay."
"Bando-san is gonna flip. That was a couple million bucks in shabu we lost if the rumors are true."
The men paused their exercise routines. One dropped his dumbbell on the ground. Another racked his barbell on the bench rack. Yet another twisted a machine part to rack his leg press machine.
"Did you say a couple million bucks? Like as in a couple hundred million yen?"
"That must've been months worth of work getting that shabu? Are you frickin' serious?!"
One of them grimaced. "The boss is desperate, I think. He started hanging out with the Ruskies that smuggle small time in Yokohama and also run girls out by the airport. They're not major, major players, but my buddies tell me they're connected."
Another young man covered his eyes and rubbed his temples. Tattoos covered every inch of his arms and intricately weaving towards his chest and back as it displayed through his tank top.
"What does this mean for the Washimine group? We're already on a spiral down. This could be death knocking on our door now.
"I don't know, bros. I don't know.
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December 29th, 20XX.
Evergreen Towers
Ginza District, Tokyo, Japan.
2023 Hrs
"So let me get this straight, correct me if I'm screwing up a detail or two here."
The audience in the room gathered around a big coffee table strewn with various paper documents, file folders, photos and various maps. Sitting around the various sofas of this large, high ceiling apartment, each and every one of them looked up at the speaker as he stood and started pacing around.
"So the office of the Russian Federation in Minato City first tells us to give us what they want. Then they change their minds and tell us it has nothing to do with them. Then they ask for what we have thus far, which was what, last week?"
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"So they asked us last week to give us everything again, and then a few days later they told us to forget about it all. And now it's past Christmas, and they're asking for professional cooperation on, and I quote, 'All investigative findings on the homicide of their felon national.' So they've ping-pong'd us back and forth and this is where we are. Am I missing something or am I taking crazy pills?"
Raiden spoke up. "I think that about summarized it, Ranma."
Ranma ran his hand through his hairs and looked at US Navy Master Chief Kimura, dressed in his usual business casual slacks and buttoned shirt.
"Could be a case of CYA. Everyone dipping their fingers in the pot just wants to cover their asses," Kimura said.
Ranma nodded, acknowledging him.
"They last 10 kilograms of ready to market, pure processed shit," said Chris Kurosawa. The Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel, attached to the Special Activities Division of his home nation's clandestine service, was wearing dark green cargo pants over a dark navy sweater. He crossed his arms. "Someone lost an ass-full of money when Natsumi plugged these motherfuckers. That money isn't going to be ignored."
"Street value on that can be crazy high, guys," Rika Minami chimed in. The police Special Assault Team sniper raised her arms up high, stretching her cream colored sweater against her ample bosom as she yawned. She reached for a handful of fancy macadamia nuts that were on the coffee table. "Lowest estimate on it is $1.5 million in hard currency."
Police officer Natsumi Tsujimoto shook her head. "And that's just wholesale pricing. Tokyo MPD Narcotics put the estimate as high as $6 million if they distribute it directly."
"To a Russian gangster it'd be a gold mine," said Jackson. The former French GIGN counter-terrorism operator rolled up his sleeves and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Ten kilos of crystal meth is nothing in a market like Tokyo. Just a drop. And it's easier to distribute than that cocaine ring we busted a few years back, Ranma."
"So it's at least a few million bucks of someone losing out on a fat payday," Ranma added. He tapped his nose and started walking towards the fridge. "Anyone want anything?"
"Get me another beer!"
"Same."
"Coca Cola."
"Mitsuwa Cider!"
"Perrier."
Ranma opened his apartment fridge and accurately tossed each requested refreshment with pinpoint accuracy across the very large living room. He grabbed a bottle of sparkling Perrier for himself as well.
"I mean we can all agree it's better to keep the Russians like mushrooms and feed them shit and keep them in the dark." Ranma pointed at Natsumi with the bottle. "Only thing we know about Natsumi's dead Russian is that he's a former Soviet soldier."
Natsumi sighed and took a deep breath as she took a sip of her lemon-lime flavored Japanese soda. "Didn't realize how close I came to buying the farm."
Jackson lifted his chin as he took a refreshing swig of his own sparkling water. "CIA are the only ones helping with the PID on him. Interpol, National Police, and the Japanese Foreign Ministry want us to all back the hell off."
Rika cracked the top of her Coke and sipped gently. "Like we discussed before, if there's one there must be more."
"No one handling that much money and merchandise is dumb enough to work alone," Kurosawa said. He popped the bottle cap of his Stella Artois and clicked his beer with Kimura, who'd done the same.
Kimura swigged his beer and exhaled through his nostrils. "They don't call 'em a mafia for nothing. The fuse has been lit and all we can do is wait to find out where the powder keg explodes."
Ranma grimaced at the thought. "We're running ragged doing drug raids on empty leads and there could be a thousand of us and it still wouldn't be enough manpower."
Kimura shook his head. "You're gonna run into dry holes, left and right, Ranma." He grabbed a handful of nuts from the table and munched. "It happened to us in Afghanistan, North Africa, all over."
Kurosawa nodded. "Same here. We rat-fucked our way across Iraq and all over Afghan, came up with nothing. It took CIA a decade to find Uncle Osama and we threw everything and anything at it. It's part of the game, guys."
"Yeah, it came at a high price though," Kimura said, sighing. "I had a lot of Team 6 friends on that OP who died in that Chinook crash years back."
The younger agents in the room looked at their two American counterparts with a mix of awe and sympathy.
"Gold Squadron?" Kurosawa asked.
Kimura slowly moved his head. "Gold Squadron," he replied morosely.
"You mean SEAL Team 6, Master Chief?" Natsumi asked cautiously.
He smiled, recalling an old memory with old teammates. "That's right, Natsumi. SEAL Team 6. The Special Warfare Development Group," Kimura softly replied.
Jackson cleared his throat. "Well I'm sure they'd be honored you're continuing the good fight, Master Chief."
"Damn right."
"Hear, hear."
"Ooh-rah, Devil Dog!"
"Get some, Chief!"
The middle aged Kimura stroked his goatee and chuckled. "Thanks guys."
"Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un," Jackson said aloud in French, reciting their SSB unit motto. "We're all in it together.
All for one, and one for all, Ranma thought. He looked at them silently, gathered around in his living room. He looked out the window and saw the moon shining in the clear winter sky. He wondered what Kiyone was up to. Just another month to go before she came back home.
"I guess all we can do is wait for the other shoe to drop," Ranma said. "I think we grinded what we could, we just have to wait to react."
The doorbell rang at that moment with a digital chime.
Rika stood up. "Must be the sushi delivery. I'll go get it boys, you sit tight."
Everyone visibly perked up looking at the entrance.
"Alright, let's clear this table. Time to feast."
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December 31th, 20XX.
Kabukicho, Shinjuku City
Tokyo, Japan.
1645 Hrs
Twenty eight year old Rebecca Lee pressed her nose against the inside of the taxi cab window. She'd never seen a city so clean.
"This is your homeland, Rock? You weren't kidding. It's spotless."
The snowfall was quite pleasant, Rokuro Okajima thought. He straightened up his neck tie and buttoned up his winter jacket. "It's part of the culture, Revy. No one litters, everyone picks up after themselves here."
"Impressive." Revy waited for the taxicab to come to a complete stop and waited for the driver to remotely open her door for her. She learned that awkward little protocol when they arrived earlier today trying to enter by opening the door herself.
"Hey, hang tight just a moment, Revy," Rock said to her as he excited the cab. He thanked the driver in Japanese after handing him the correct change for the fare. "I need to call the guys in Roanapur to let them know we're on schedule."
"You should call your parents too, Rock," she replied.
"We'll get there when we get there," he said.
Rock saw Revy light up a cigarette as she took in the sights of Kabukicho. Her choice of dress was cute but stuck out, a plaid skirt with full winter stockings with a pair of decorated cowboy boots with pointed toes. "Let's take care of our business with Balalaika first."
"Just let Anego do her thing, Rock," Revy warned. "She doesn't mess around with business."
"I know, I know." Rock shook his head. He'd been with the Lagoon Company long enough to know what it meant to cross Hotel Moscow.
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"So, Bando-san. Are you ready to do this? Do we have an agreement?"
Senior Washimine boss and figurehead Tsugio Bando took a drag of his cigarette and regarded the people in front of him carefully.
"There's a limit to the Kousa group's disrespect, Rokujima-san," Bando said. He exhaled a thick plume of smoke in the midst of the large private table they were seated in.
The seated Russian woman directly across from him rested her chin on her hands. Her scarred face wrinkled as she smiled, her cigarillo wafting its own smoke across the table.
Rock, standing next to Revy behind the Russian woman and her multiple guards, continued to translate as she spoke simultaneously.
"We don't provide a promise. We provide a result," she said.
Former paratrooper Sofiya Pavlovna Irinovskaya tapped her cigarillo on the crystal ashtray placed in front of her.
"Are the stories Laptev told true?" Bando asked. "You're former VDV?"
"Just call me Balalaika," she replied coolly. "You can believe whatever you want. We'll get the job done and make up for Laptev's incompetence. He's not going to be a thorn in your side. We're bringing in our own men, and they won't lose your merchandise carelessly. Your investment will be well spent on Hotel Moscow."
Bando took another drag of his smoke and looked back at her. He suppressed the urge to show doubt on his face.
"Laptev's crony and our own idiots caused a huge hole in our financial operations. Tokyo nightlife thrives on shabu, Miss Balalaika. We need to resort to the next level." Bando regarded her carefully. "If you used force to gain power for us against the Kousa group. We wouldn't complain," he said.
Rock continued his translation for Balalaika seamlessly.
"It will give us great leverage if we were to gain strength," Bando finished.
Balalaika's eyes narrowed and she sipped from her tumbler glass of fine alcoholic spirits.
"Strength, Mr. Bando." She scoffed before continuing and motioned one of her soldiers over who was holding a cell phone. "Our strength can't be gauged in this country. We're a military group."
Balalaika took another deep drag of her cigarillo and blew it directly at the face of the Japanese gangsters seated across from her.
"We'll let you see our strength," Balalaika said, smirking.
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December 31th, 20XX.
Tendo Residence
Nerima, Japan.
2133 Hrs
Ryouga regarded Ranma's partner as she continued to eat the snacks in front of her. He was used to it for Ranma, heck even his wife Akane had a healthy appetite.
But this young brunette was on another level.
"You know those Korean muk-bangs?" Natsumi said, munching on some more grilled chicken. "If I ever need a new job I'm gonna be one of those streaming video eaters. That sounds like such a sweet life, just sitting around and eating all day for a living."
Ranma tsked tsked his partner as he stuffed his mouth with another piece of fish cake from the replenished oden hot pot. "You can't do that ALL day. You gotta work out and do something active too. Then you can go home and eat all you want. You'll become a tubby fat-ass in no time if you just make it all about eating."
Natsumi shoved Ranma in the ribs with her elbows. "Who asked you?" She continued to munch and grabbed a spoon and started shoveling oden into her mouth as well. "I'll have you know I need the calories to feed these."
For effect, Natsumi pulled her sweater sleeve up to her biceps and flexed, an impressive amount of female muscle bulging up.
Akane cracked up with laughter as she brought another tray of finger foods to the living room table. "You're such a character, Natsumi-san!"
"Let 'em watch," Natsumi grunted in exaggeration, pulling up her other sleeve and flexing both arms. "Let 'em watch the gun show!"
The Tendo family, with Akane, Kasumi, Nabiki, Soun, and Ryouga laughed alongside Ranma at their now familiar guest. Genma laughed heartily as he sat next to Nodoka, dressed in her kimono and absolutely enjoying the sense of family she was surrounded by.
Natsumi was a frequent visitor to Tendo Dojo when Ranma stationed himself in Tokyo this past month. She had given them a reason to have a festivity with every casual visit, her contagious enthusiasm brightening up every gathering.
"I gotta tell you, Tsujimoto-san. You got a gift," Ryoga said to her, smiling as he bared his fangs.
"I haven't had this much fun in a while, thanks Natsumi-chan," Nabiki cackled as she sipped her beer at the edge of the table.
She looked up at Ryouga who was softly gazing back at her.
Gratefully, he still had a contented smile when they matched eyes. Nabiki thought back to her impulsive solo-trip back to Nerima earlier this month, driven by the desire to not spend another Christmas or New Years alone again.
It had been worth it apologizing her heart out and begging for forgiveness to Ryouga. The pain of separation from the family home was nothing in comparison to the pride she swallowed.
Nothing in comparison.
Nabiki looked at the plasma TV screen, the same one she'd bought for this family years ago idly broadcasting something with its volume turned low. She noticed it was no longer playing a program, perhaps that's why it got her attention.
Instead, it seemed to be broadcasting breaking news. The kind of hot story you get when a major event occurred and the TV stations broke through with the story.
Nabiki clicked the remote's volume up in curiosity.
"...police officials have yet to give a statement but we're getting viewer submissions from all over Kabukicho regarding the explosion that just occurred. You can clearly see firefighters trying to extinguish the building fires-"
Everyone turned to the TV screen, focusing their attention to the burning blazes and the scrolling headlines.
"What the?" Ranma squinted and read the scrolling news feed. "Explosion in Kabukicho?"
Natsumi continued to munch her oden. "Do you think it was a gas line?"
Ranma bit his lower lip. "I have no idea. Look at all that debris. Looks crazy."
Their conversation got interrupted by an audible tone from Natsumi's cell phone. She reached into her pocket and gulped her food as she got up to exit the room, walking towards the sliding doors that led to the pond.
Ranma paused and continued looking at the TV screen, trying to glean more. He knew that tone, it was specifically a line from the National Police high command.
"Ara, ara. How terrible. Right before the new year too," Kasumi commented as she too tried to gather what was being shown on the TV screen.
"Oneechan, it's probably nothing." Akane handed her father and Genma fresh bottles of beer as she cleared the table of empty food plates.
"Absolutely," Ryoga said in agreement. "It's probably a leaking gas line, like Tsujimoto-san mentioned.
Nabiki seemed fixated on the news and alternated glances with Ranma. Her expression was more serious than the others.
The sliding doors briskly opened as Natsumi re-entered the room, her phone still in her hand. She bowed to everyone apologetically.
Ranma picked up on her body language immediately. "Commissioner?"
"Grab your things, Major. We have to deploy, right now."
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December 31th, 20XX.
Kabukicho, Shinjuku City
Tokyo, Japan.
2258 Hrs
Ranma wiped her face as she cleared the spray of the fire hoses from the nearby trucks, still trying to extinguish flames that had jumped to the adjacent buildings.
Lt. Colonel Kurosawa walked briskly towards him, a handful of debris held in his gloved hands. The entire scene was a circus of ambulances, fire trucks, police cars, and several police panel trucks setting up command in the disaster zone.
"Master Chief is gonna be here any minute," Kurosawa told Ranma. He held up a mangled piece of something in his Kevlar gloves. "I think this was the detonation device. I can smell it."
Natsumi joined them as she nearly tripped over all the broken rubble that had scattered the ground. "What is it, Chris?"
Ranma looked at it curiously. It had the distinct odor of burned motor oil. "It smells familiar."
"It's because we've trained with this when we were teaching you basic demolition and breaching," Kurosawa said.
Natsumi and Ranma looked at each other, ears wide, eyeballs clicked.
"Plastique. Probably C4. My gut says it's military grade." Kurosawa let out a breath he'd been holding and pointed back at the mangled destruction. "Thank God there were no regular civilians killed. A bunch got burned and hit with debris, but Tokyo MPD thinks they were all Yakuza."
"Who?" Ranma asked.
Natsumi answered first, "I recognize this territory. It's the Kousa Group."
"So far 14 bodies have been recovered. I got Jackson and Raiden scanning the cell towers to see if it was a remote cell phone detonation at the time of the blast." Kurosawa pointed to all the surrounding buildings and shops. "Rika is canvasing the local businesses to screen their CCTV footage. We're staying on top, like we drilled for."
Behind them, the blip of a police siren and the flash of blue and red lights came into their periphery. A gray colored Nissan Patrol SUV with undercover Code 3 lights installed on the bumper made its way through the police quarantine.
A visibly upset man jumped out, aghast at the scene.
"What in the holy-fucking-fuck is going on?" Master Chief Kimura snarled. "These guys actually set off a powder keg?"
Kurosawa whistled. "Hey Sailor Moon, get over here!"
Kimura growled as he practically marched his way towards Kurosawa, who was still holding the mangled debris in his hands. "Someone's gonna die for this!" He stopped short as his face got close to it and he sniffed.
"Is… is this what I think it is?" Kimura asked. "It smells like…"
Kurosawa grimaced, nodding. "You bet your ass, Chief."
"I can almost taste the plastic," Kimura responded, disgusted.
Ranma sighed. "Happy new years, team. This is gonna be a spicy one."
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January 1st, 20XX.
Public Security Bureau
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters
Tokyo, Japan.
0937 Hrs
"As the Assistant Commissioner, I'm here to make it clear to everyone here that any leaks from this meeting will be directly investigated and you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."
Everyone in the room looked at Natsumi Tsujimoto with their complete attention, some with more worry in their eyes than others.
Natsumi continued. "There hasn't been a mass casualty incident like this in Tokyo since the Tokyo Sarin Attacks. This is all hands on deck for all command brass and subordinate officers. We need your help to disseminate all data, leads, and sources as we sift through this mountain of information."
A hand raised up from one of the seated police officials. "Is JNSA taking the collar for this case?"
Ranma was seated beside the standing Natsumi, he cleared his throat and looked at her and waited for her to nod in approval. "JNSA is going to handle the direct action against the perpetrators. All credit and public relations will be delegated to Tokyo MPD and the National Police."
A hushed murmur of approvals and compliments spread across the room.
Natsumi continued. "We're going to be the tip of the spear. The police get to harvest the bounty." She scanned the room, looking at everyone's eyes. "Any objections to us being the vanguard?"
"Affirmative."
"No ma'am!"
"We're good to go on our end, Commissioner."
"We swear to give our best!"
Natsumi sighed, tired from being awake for over 24 hours. She crinkled a smile though, it was nothing compared to Hell Week or even operator training.
She made a fist and pumped it in front of everyone. "Let's go out there and get these bastards. Execute."
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Ranma lit a cigarette as soon as he got into the miniature bus, an unmarked Toyota Coaster. He took a seat by himself away from his teammates.
"Hey asshole, gimme one too," Rika chirped from a seat a few rows from him.
"Me three," Kimura added. "Those are the old school Mild Sevens, right?"
Ranma yawned and fished out his pack of Mevius cigarettes along with a disposable Bic lighter. He tossed it to Rika first who promptly lit it and did the same by passing it to Master Chief.
Up in the front, Raiden did a quick headcount of everyone, spread across generously in the mostly empty private bus. "Driver, please take us to Evergreen Towers in Ginza," Raiden asked.
"Hai," the driver simply responded.
Sergeant Jackson rubbed his eyes as he fiddled with a notepad and his work laptop, a Panasonic Toughbook. He looked over to everyone before speaking. "Your hunch was right, Kurosawa. The pings from the cell data towers show a device that received a call and automatically answered right around the exact time of detonation."
Kurosawa yawned as well, perking his ears. "Cell phone trigger, then?"
Jackson agreed. "Cell phone trigger."
"Tokyo MPD is happy with us getting our hands dirty if it means keeping ours clean," Natsumi stated. "We do the bust, they get to take the public trust."
"I wouldn't want to deal with it either if I were in their shoes," Ranma said. He blew out smoke through his open seat window. "When do we get an analysis on that explosive? We have a lead time on that?"
Rika Minami exhaled a plume of smoke through her nostrils, aiming it towards her own open window. "We had enough residue samples to send it to a bunch of different sources. Japanese SDF at all their EOD branches, Tokyo MPD Bomb Squad, US Navy EOD at the 7th Fleet."
She flipped open her own pocket notepad to read an additional detail she had written down.
"We also sent an emergency courier on a flight to FBI Headquarters in Quantico. They responded immediately and are arranging to have their staff come in from holiday."
"Outstanding," Ranma replied. He gave her a thumbs up and reclined back in his seat. "Now all we can do is hurry up and wait."
"Hold on." Rika checked her phone as it buzzed a text message. "My contact at the Organized Crime Bureau just shot me a message. Says here the club belonged to the Kousa Group. The building is owned and insured by… the Washimine Group."
Natsumi clicked her tongue. "Kousa Group, I'm not surprised. Washimine? Hell of a coincidence."
"Hey, I'm hungry," Kimura said. He flicked his cigarette out the window. "Let's order some takeout or delivery for Ranma's place. We'll have plenty to discuss and traps to set in the coming days."
"Roger that, Master Chief." Ranma flipped through his smart phone as the others in the bus proceeded to fall asleep.
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January 6th, 20XX.
Hotel Groove Park Royal
Kabukicho, Shinjuku City.
Tokyo, Japan.
0830 Hrs
"Don't skip breakfast, Sergeant. It's not good for you."
"No, I'm fine."
"Well, then. Sergeant please explain the progress of the situation."
"Last night didn't go as planned, Captain."
"Oh?" Balalaika looked up from her teacup. "They put up a better fight than we gave them credit for?"
Boris looked at his comrade, dead in the eye. "No, Kapitan. It wasn't the Kousa group that resisted. When we finished them off, someone else was waiting for us in response."
The hairs on the back of her head tingled. "Go on," Balalaika replied. "What happened?"
"We assaulted the Kousa office at 0230 hours. Twelve kills. Zero casualties, zero fatalities on our side. Our men were retreating at 0237 hrs." Boris continued matching her eyes.
"And?"
"A few minutes later a six man team intercepted us in three different cars. Comrades Mikhailov and Abramov were the only survivors. They described them as Japanese. One of them yelled at us in English, if what they say is to be believed."
She narrowed her eyes. "We sent half a platoon. VDV troops, Sergeant."
"And God rest their souls, Captain. Two casualties, seven fatalities. Rest assured their identities were sanitized before we made the trip to this country. But this is the reality of the situation. They were gunned down and killed. Mikhailov is absolutely positive they are deceased. He claims visual confirmation during his retreat."
Balalaika stood up. "Call Rock and Revy. We must go."
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Six hours ago….
January 6th, 20XX.
[CLASSIFIED]
Kabukicho, Shinjuku City.
Tokyo, Japan.
0232 Hrs
"Son of a bitch, there it is!"
Ranma listened to the radio call as a local police patrol reported loud automatic gunfire in his vicinity. Night after night, day after day, patiently stalking the immediate Kabukicho area finally paid off.
Natsumi clicked the handheld mike's transmit button as she held it close to her mouth. "Patrol, patrol! State your location immediately!"
A panicked garbled transmission came through as Ranma scribbled it down and simultaneously checked a map of the Kabukicho area that they had laid out on the dashboard of their car.
"Right there," he said pointing. Natsumi confirmed it by pointing at the same location.
He grabbed a separate handheld radio mic, connected to an encrypted VHF military receiver. "This is Rainman and Clutch, tangos have been spotted at the Maruimo Pachinko Parlor."
A hiss and a pop followed by a squelch. "This is Werewolf and Sailor Moon, solid copy."
Ranma acknowledged Rika and Master Chief's callsigns. "Roger that."
Another radio squelch came in. "This is Greased Lightning and Puff Daddy, we'll follow your lead Ranko."
Ranma's eyes twitched at Raiden and Kurosawa's check-in. Ranko was reserved for when he was in female form. "We're Oscar-Mike. Engage hostile tangos as needed. Weapons free."
Three cars raced off into the sparkling city night, following in close formation. The hunt was on.
-+0-+-+-+-+-0+-+-+
"Loading!"
Ranma's index finger pressed on the magazine catch of his Knights Armament KS-3 carbine. The empty polymer magazine fell free and clacked on the asphalt as he smoothly rammed a fresh P-Mag filled with 29 rounds.
His left hand guided the fresh ammo and naturally placed his left thumb above the bolt release on the left side of the rifle, releasing the catch of the bolt carrier-group causing it to slam a fresh round of 5.56mm NATO ammunition to charge into battery.
He got back in the fight, rifle aimed, selector switch set to semi-auto. Both his eyes were stretched wide open, the target marked by a crisp red dot on his Aimpoint Micro T2 optical sight.
Next to him, Ranma's partner shouted.
"Loading!" Natsumi screamed as she took cover behind the car and went through her muscle-memory rehearsed manual of arms with an identical KS-3 carbine rifle.
Ranma's index finger squeezed the trigger twice in quick, controlled succession. A captive explosion propelled a projectile down a 13 inch barrel that had a specialized built-in baffle integrated into the upper receiver. Two suppressed 55 grain rounds cracking the sound barrier at 2800 feet per second found their way through the torso of their intended victim.
Another figure to his left flank barked. "Moving!"
An aggressive leapfrog maneuver made by Master Chief had Ranma adjusting his shooting to provide suppressing fire as Kimura pushed forward to get behind a concrete pillar ahead of them, his own Knights Armament KS-3 carbine pointing ahead.
As soon as Kimura was in place, he shouted. "Move!"
This time, Rika bounded forward while yelling. "Moving!"
A cacophony of rapid fire pierced the night air from the right, with Kurosawa and Raiden letting out alternating bursts of covering fire for their advancing squad mates.
They were on opposite ends of their SUV, Chris had his suppressed Knights Armament LAMG spraying controlled bursts of armor piercing 7.62mm fed from a 200-round belt fed pouch while mounted on the engine hood.
Raiden had an HK416 select-fire rifle with 60-round rotary P-Mags spraying pinpoint 5.56mm lead on their intended victims. He was on the ground, prone and firing from underneath the tall clearance of their Toyota Land Cruiser.
Screams of pain and death emanated from downrange as the masked men on the other end of the overwhelming gunfire found themselves immobile. Their clumsy AKS-74U carbines fired back bravely with deafening booms compared to the suppressed long guns of the SSB.
The element of surprise however was far too tilted to one side. The battle was measured in seconds, not minutes as Master Chief and Rika Minami flanked their poor vehicular cover from the left and delivered their coup de grace.
Kimura roared. "Four tangos down on the pavement!"
Rika matched his ferocity. "Three tangos down inside the cars!"
"Moving up!" shouted Ranma, making his way up carefully the same path that Rika and Kimura had taken.
Natsumi stepped carefully and followed Ranma closely. Kurosawa and Raiden were both reloading in sequence as rear security cover.
"They're gaijins!" Kimura yelled, kneeling over the bodies in the street. Blood oozed from their bodies and stained the twilight asphalt.
Rika did the same for the corpses trapped inside the bullet-ridden vehicles. Her HK416 rifle variant, an accurized G28 model, was slung on her back as she ready-aimed with her Sig M18X pistol and removed the balaclavas of the dead men. "They look Russian, boys!" Rika shouted.
"Left side, clear!" Ranma announced.
"Right side, clear!" Kurosawa added.
Raiden scanned his sector. "Rear flank, clear!"
Natsumi carefully observed her surroundings, her adrenaline surged and her tunnel vision creeping in. Her arms started to tremble and her throat was dry, thirstier than it's ever been.
She hesitated before confidently announcing.
"All clear!"
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January 6th, 20XX.
Weyland-Yutani Industrial Storage
Taito City.
Tokyo, Japan.
1242 Hrs
Balalaika finished wrapping the gauze around Abramov's left bicep. The doctor next to her injected his arm with an additional anesthetic, visibly calming the wounded man as the drug coursed through his veins.
"You're gonna live, Comrade." Balalaika gingerly taped the dressing so it wouldn't come loose. "Won't he, doctor?"
The Russian embassy doctor who had arrived with his bag full of supplies proceeded to dispose of his used syringe.
"No vitals hit, clean and shot through." The doctor's face was concerned. "But the tissue damage is severe. He'll most likely lose use of his arm unless we get him to a real hospital in a day or two."
"I'll pay for a private flight to Vladivostok. Consider it done, Comrade."
Abramov winced and smiled in appreciation. He proceeded to close his eyes and let the anesthetic take over his conscience.
"Same with you, Comrade Mikhailov." She squeezed his shoulder firmly.
"Your generosity is a blessing, Captain." He saluted in gratitude, while gripping his own leg wound. He too laid down to close his eyes from the pain and anesthesia.
Balalaika grabbed a warmed moist towel that Boris, her second in command, handed to her. She wiped away the blood on her hands before reaching into her pocket to light a cigarette.
Rock and Levy stood nearby, watching the entire scene in silence. Revy wore a parka jacket to fight the frigid morning cold. Rock stood bye in his cashmere winter suit jacket, hands in his pockets.
"Rock. Revy." Balalaika walked towards both of them. "It seems I need your translation services outside of what we agreed upon."
Rock wordlessly gave his consent. "Anything you need, Madame."
"You'll be paid for it of course. But as you can see, I need to take care of this swiftly. And with closure."
"Anything you need, Anego," Revy replied stiffly.
The older Russian woman looked at Rock, her scarred features prominently in his face. "And Rock, I can't have you questioning anything I ask of you. I just need you to translate, and get the information I need. I'll take care of all the blood." She dropped her half finished cigarette and she smashed it with her high heel shoes. "Do you get me? Did I make myself clear?"
Revy protectively put an arm across Rock. "He understands you loud and clear, Anego. What do we need?"
Balalaika simmered in place. Her face darkened as she looked back at her passed out and injured troopers. "We're gonna find out which force did this. I don't know if it's the police, the military, whoever. I frankly don't give a shit. I just want their heads on a stick."
Rock gulped. Was Hotel Moscow about to start a real war in his homeland?
"Start with poking around with the police. I'll request some information with the Russian embassy. And Revy…"
"Yes, Anego."
"Accompany Rock over here as you guys talk to the Washimine group. I can't imagine they are capable of backstabbing us in this manner, but I'm not leaving any stone unturned."
Revy looked unsure. She looked at Rock, who was already sweating with worry.
"We'll do what we can, Anego."
Balalaika closed her eyes and shook her head. "I can accept that answer."
She turned on her heel and faced Boris. "Comrade?"
"Yes, Kapitan?"
"Prepare for war."
"Yes, Kapitan."
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Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma, You're Under Arrest, Black Lagoon, and any other anime/manga characters here who are mentioned by name. Just having fun writing.
One very important detail I need to address as we crossover into Black Lagoon territory is the timeline. I'm fully aware that Black Lagoon in general takes place in the mid to early 90's. I tried to be as careful as possible not to indicate specific character timelines from Black Lagoon like Balalaika's involvement in the Soviet Afghan war, even though it's integral to her character. I'm instead planning to retcon her battlefield experience from the Chechen conflict which the Russian Federation has been brutally tangled with in the past.
So, how did you guys like this chapter? The Fujiyama Gangster's Paradise Arc of Black Lagoon is easily one of the best and most memorable of that series, but I have to admit I've seethed at the sheer incompetence of how the Japanese government would handle such a blatant invasion on its home turf. The original seed for this fic's existence stemmed from that personal butthurt. In fact, I've actually expressed my dislike (and like) for Black Lagoon even in Officer Saotome. Here, I'm just fleshing it out with my take on how the Fujiyama arc would unfold.
The short and direct action sequence with the SSB was something I thought carefully on, and I have to admit I think I made the right choice by not making it so wordy or so drawn out. Real life ambushes aren't lengthy. Gunfights in general happen in seconds, not minutes. And the ones that are drawn out? They are outbursts in the form of seconds of violence, followed up by long minutes or sometimes hours of complete stillness and anticlimactic procedural waiting or tactical movement. Combat is a funny, strange thing.
I've got more to come, as these past few chapters have been outlined for years and were also partially written for a long time as well. I want to keep a reasonable flow of updates and finish this series and give it the proper conclusion it deserves.
Thank you to anyone who gives even the slightest bit of attention to fics in general, let alone what I write. I still check ff net from time to time, and actually read reviews and take the criticism constructively and seriously. Any feedback you had for me is not only greatly welcomed, but honored and appreciated. I hope you have all been living blessed lives, especially when things don't go our way or get tough.
Completed May 29, 2024.