_Cover_Art.png){kind=link}
Chapter 12 - Black Lights and Crimson Nights[]
Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter
11/22/3046 - Location: Masamori, Hachiman
White cloth and reflective panels on the player’s uniforms glowed under the black lights of the Arena floor encapsulating the volume with technicolor. Fans bobbed their heads to the symphonic electronic music of the house DJ while the competitors took a break between bouts. Jerri felt a tap on the shoulder breaking his focus on a cute blue haired girl in the audience with glow sticks in her braids. It was Franklin with a sweaty forehead, dust everywhere else, smelling of fresh tobacco and motor oil while appearing to have a humpback and heavy shoulder pads under his jacket.
“You missed us crushing the Tiger Sharks. Hey, your jacket’s all dusty. What were you doing out there for so long?”
His other hand clutched something under his jacket and its wasn’t his cane, that was slung into his belt like the scabbard it was.
“We’re leaving, tell the others.”
Masamori at night
Jerri leaned in close, “We can’t leave. It’s finals.”
Franklin leaned in closer until he almost touched the teen’s forehead. “We are, tell the others to leave via the side.”
“Not the van?”
He didn't bother to say a word, “That bad huh? Even here?”
“I think they are waiting for something. Gives us time to get out of the line of fire.”
“What about the others?”
“Backup is on the way for them. Tuyen will pick you up.”
“What are you going to do?”
This close Jerri could see Franklin had the backup kit hidden under their van already over his shoulders. “Not get shot.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
“Ay, Implementation is a bitch though.”
Jerri called for a team huddle and the Scoundrels looked toward Franklin before calmly walking toward the restrooms near the side exit. “Hurry up kids.” He looked down at his inward facing analog gold watch before looking up at the arena clock looming over him. “Time’s running out.”
Franklin had his back to the bleachers facing the entrance closest to the garage right hand still under his coat. One of the Tiger Sharks appeared beside him his jersey unique in that it had a brightly colored minnow patch put ahead of the leaping shark. “Mister Sakamoto, are you related to General Samson Sakamoto, the hero of Xhosha VII?”
“Not by blood. His drunken ner’do’well great grandson adopted me as I was apparently the closest thing he had to a legitimate kid.”
Franklin furrowed his brow at the statement, “Kinda sad to say that out loud, thanks kid. Why are you asking?”
“I find Hugai Kurita, the twenty-eighth Coordinator, rather fascinating. So much so that I enrolled in HTI.”
“Well, that’s mildly disturbing kid. I’d keep a close eye on your older sister if you have one then. Don’t need another Necess and COMSTAR problems.”
The mention of COMSTAR provoked a curious response in the young man. One that Franklin felt a need to investigate further.
Later
When there wasn’t a hit squad rounding the corner.
Like there was
Now
Four Roryrexs roared in the arena in the hands of a dozen masked men. Sparks flew from the damaged scoreboard, holotank, and gaming rigs as the audience screamed in terror. The referee threw downs hi gunpai, drew his wakizashi, and charging into withering gunfire, dropping out of sight under the black light.
Three men brandished their matte black pistols toward stunned, standing audience members. “Tishina! Ostavaysya tam! Ruki vverkh!"
The spectators looked at them in confusion before the gunmen switched to heavily accented, guttural Japanese. “Silence!
Stay there!
Hands up!”
Discordant house music still played through the damaged speakers as the gunmen looked toward Franklin and Minoru. “You, hand over the boy, and you won’t get hurt.
and get your arm out of the jacket! ”
Minoru stood nearer to Franklin, accidentally nudging his shoulder into the hard bump on the older man’s back. Franklin heard him whisper, “What does he have back here?”
“What about the boy?”
“You should be more worried about yourself.
Hand him over!”
Three guns pointed his way while others scanned the bleachers for those seeking to die heroes.
“I won’t ask again.”
“You want to see my arms vory? Sure.”
Franklin revealed a firearm shaped like the matchlock Tanegashima of yore, relics that still saw use by collectors and rural peasants, but of a twelve gauge bore, modified choke, and pump action nature. The shotgun boomed six times, four gunmen fell under the onslaught, the rest took cover behind hostages or concealed themselves in the gaming pit.
Percival’s bodyguards fired their magnum Sternsnatch hand cannons behind them as they evacuated their principal shouting angrily to their partners outside through radio.
Scant moments of silence were punctuated by MMK sirens outside. Seconds later the whole space devolved into chaos. Franklin used his left arm and a violent circle to push Minoru into the shallow void beneath the bleachers shielding themselves from the panicked press of the crowd and Vory’s bullets.
Innocent blood trickled down on them from the gunshot victims above, Franklin stripped off his ragged dusty jacket revealing the armored vest attached to his back like a turtle’s shell. Minoru shouted as he held his ears whose drums had been blown out by a half-dozen close-range twelve gauges. “You could have warned me.”
Minoru had to exaggerate his lip movement, “No time.”
“How bout before. You bastard!”
“Apologies, Minoru-kun. I was preoccupied with preventing our potential imminent deaths.” By the time he finished speaking Franklin shrugged loose the plate carrier, donning it and its loops of brightly colored shotshells over his stained shirt. Franklin felt warm liquid on his face and slick black hair as he fed shells into the ravenous maw of the Rift LiMS (Limited Marine Special) Gun. Steady exchanges of automatic gunfire filled the arena as hitmen cut their way through the crowd while trading shots with the DCMS’s anemic Nambu pistols, ones more suited to a Commissar’s work or decoration than as a Soldier's weapon.
“We need to move kid,” Franklin pulled out a set of ear plugs for Minoru, “or it won’t be only your hearing that’s lost.”
Minoru splashed through pools of water rippling under the assault of the fire alarm, punctuated with shotgun blasts and the rat tat of machine pistols. Water dribbled into Franklin’s eyes through parts in his gelled hair from the sprinklers above. His grip slipped on his shotgun’s textured stock blinking drops away, as dilute streams of red dripped onto gray linoleum tiles. Minoru could see the tapestry of brightly colored irezumi around the armored vest through his white silk shirt.
“Someone just had to pull the fire alarm on their way out. This was finally my chance to smoke inside this place.”
“Why aren’t we leaving?” Minoru looked around at the bare light gray walls and epoxy floors streaked with the sighs of carts and stains of spilled food. Burnt meat and other smells of a rapidly abandoned kitchen filled the air. “This is just the kitchen and utilities area.”
“Nothing is stopping you trying to escape on your own kid. You’re just a tagalong to me. You may have noticed that hesitate to shoot at you. Which is good, I’ve only got one vest.” Franklin leaned out and fired another blast down the hall, one answered by a pained cry downrange. “Only winged him, damn.”
Another round from the vest was rammed its way into the magazine. “Besides I have everything needed to buy time for the MMK.”
Franklin checked his watch, “Eight o clock, busiest traffic hour round here due to the underage curfew. Only made worse by this whole situation. I give them four more minutes before they are going to have to withdraw or get in a shootout with the cops.”
“Why aren’t they shooting?”
“Probably aren’t sure where you are and don’t want to risk hitting you.“
"These Bratva are rank amateurs. No subtlety or finesse."
"If you want to kidnap a teenage boy, you always go for the honeytrap."
"Hire some cute girl to flirt your mark into the backroom, A little passion to sell it and get you to drop your guard and pants. Then lights out, drugged or mugged."
“Clean, fast, consistent."
“What’s your poison?
Miko? Maid? Babysitter? Lolita? Gyaru? Schoolgirl? They have some cute uniforms across the river. Don’t let those Stormbreakers or Templars get you down, you crushed em’ in the Arena.
“I don’t see you as a leather fan, but it’s always the brainy ones, particularly the girls. Spike your hair and get a motorcycle. You’d clean up at HTI.
“I sure did.”
“That’s a weird question to ask in this situation don’t you think?”
“Gotta fill that time kid. Make them think we aren’t paying attention to them.
I’ll go first. Big fan of denim.
Tight jeans, short open jackets.
Those ranch girls get me every time.”
“I haven’t had a lot of experience or thought about it.”
“What did you spend your puberty in a monastery or something?
I’ll admit I don’t know how that works for royalty.”
Fortress Dieron was co-ed, but he was always busy with something other than his fellow acolytes. A mixed blessing considering how that worked out for him. “Something like that.”
“Well enjoy it while you can. Never know what’s going to happen next.”
A masked vory burst through one of the side doors charging Franklin with a Shaska saber gleaming under the lights above. Franklin turned toward the noise, almost muzzling Minoru. “Get down!”
The kid wasn’t quick enough but fell to the sodden ground in a crash. Franklin caught the sword blade on the gun-barrel, reversed it to use the curvy goose neck stock to pull the swordsman’s knee upward and off-balance. Unable to defend himself Franklin shoved him into the wall with a firm crack of wood and steel. He could smell the man’s rancid breath and felt spittle as he screamed expletives in Russian at him as both strained to control their weapons.
“Cover me, kid.”
Franklin dropped the shotgun next to Minoru’s waiting hands. His hands wrapped around his enemy’s tattooed neck locking him tight, throwing him over his hip and onto the unyielding concrete floor, then slashing his tanto across the bastard’s neck in a single motion. Blood poured out as the gunmen flopped like a fish holding his neck before the blade went through his sunglasses and into his eye. “Dosvedanya”
Franklin wiped the blade off on the man’s shirt before sheathing it. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Minoru stood up and returned the shotgun to its proper owner as exchanges of automatic gunfire picked up in tempo and intensity. “Sounds like SAT is here. They sure took their sweet time.” Franklin started to unload his shotgun returning each shell to an appropriate loop.
“You have a permit for that right?”
“Busting my balls after saving your life. Kid, I’ve got one of almost every kind of permit the Draconis Combine issues.”
Franklin kicked the shotgun, knife, and vest out into the corridor as the SAT stormed the building. The sprinkler system and fire alarms had been disabled leaving everything soaked. He rifled through the pockets of the dead vory, found a silver flask, and pack of smokes.
“Where did you learn how to do that?”
“If you lived my life, you’d pick up some things along the way.” He sat down leaned against a wall, lit one of the crumpled cigarettes. “Like larceny, smoking,” an offer to share the vodka inside or a cigarette was politely refused, “drinking, and many, many forms of lechery.”
The MMK SAT ‘Storm’ team charged forward under cover of broad armored shields, thick body armor, and submachine guns clearing each corridor along the way. Two of their members pressed Franklin firmly into the wall as a third wrenched his arms back as they cuffed him. Their squad medic check out the dead vory, cuffed the corpse, and moved on to Minoru who they simply zip-tied to their vests.
“Ease off officers. I’m the one that called it in."
"Sure you were. A Yak calling the cops, can you believe this guy?"
"I know my rights. I want my phone call, and your badge numbers.”
Despite the filthy Yamato River outside the bathhouse within its brightly colored tiles gleamed intermittently under flickering lights. A graying bare-chested man strode through puddles thick with flies. Flies which settled on wrinkled skin covered in crude, but recognizable tattoos earned on Brazen Heart. Still home to tens of millions of Maximilian, Romano, and Tormano Liao’s prisoners and billions more bones. He slammed open thin steel doors to the room beyond which housed two large wooden soaking tubs and benches built into the wall. A young man covered in more refined, colorful tattoos of various animal spirits waited for him already.
“Franklin, long time no see.”
“Well, we’ve both been quite busy. Relax and talk while the water’s still warm.”
“Show me yours first. Nothing hidden between us.”
“You don’t trust me? Is it because I survived a gunfight with your guys just two hours ago?”
Franklin stood up revealing no concealed weapons or anything on or about his person.
“Hardly looks like you were touched.”
“You should have trained your gang better rather than use that money on your pipe.”
Grigori eased himself into the vacant tub beside Franklin’s.
“You weren’t supposed to be there you know.”
“With a gun, you mean. I wasn’t supposed to be there with a gun.”
“We tried to lure him away, but Minnow didn’t take the bait.”
“You knew I would be there. Your Vory should have stayed in your allotted turf.”
“Collecting rent from dives and food courts while roughing up tenements?
We were offered a Leviathan with papers in exchange for the boy.”
“A Leviathan hasn’t been seen in the Inner Sphere since the First War. The salvage price alone for one is a billion and a half, functional in excess of two. Registration another hundred million, easy.”
Franklin flicked a match across the wooden tub to light a cigarette. “Can’t say I wouldn’t be tempted myself. Who do you know that deals in high end Lostech?”
The long silence between them was broken by Grigori lighting his pipe as Franklin extinguished his cigarette in the water, “Khadan.”
“He’s got Sarna under his thumb, and hundreds of Ghosts in his corner, with Battlemechs.
Even the Jie Fang Legion doesn’t go against him, and they took on the Thuggees.
Yet you expect us to be happy with your scraps!”
“We have rules here in Masamori. Ones made very clear when you arrived. Stay in your territory, conduct your business, and don’t stir up the cops.”
“Rules are the first casualty of war! You can pretend you don’t see but I’ve been here before.
Tanadi and Hachiman Taro idling lines, reducing hours ‘for the holidays.’ The wealthiest world in the Combine circling the drain because someone pissed off COMSTAR.
When Takashi dies, and he’s got one foot in the grave already.
It’s going to be a bloodbath where sharks like me gorge on this city's bloated corpse.”
Grigori’s eyes bugged out as Franklin pulled a tanto from beneath the water and driving it into his neck. Gushing crimson blood frothed in soapy water.
“You might not be wrong about that Grigori.”
Franklin finished the task ahead of him, wiping his blade on a nearby towel once done. Red on White always reminded him of the DCMS’ formal uniforms with good reason. He dressed in a fresh suit, apologized for the mess to the staff and stepped out into the night with his grim package. Grigori’s still warm pipe splashed in the Yamato River as Franklin paused to watch it drift away, joining the rest of Masamori's flotsam as the tide ebbed.
“However, you broke our rules so you must accept the consequences.”
Meeting at Hachiman Taro Enterprises[]
Hachiman Taro Enterprises Complex, Yoshitune Starport District, Hachiman
Chandreskar Kurita looked out at Murasaki’s shark fin office buildings across the River from the Starport and his primary factory. A steaming cup of coffee occupied one hand and a handsome ivory cane the other. Minoru flinched as a black robed Physician of the Dragon examined his bandaged chest and head. “What’s the prognosis Brother Ayumu?”
“He’ll be hearing bells for a few more days but likely no permanent damage.”
The physician packed up his medical bag loaded with everything from mystical totems, 3d holographic scanners, and herbal teas or poultices. “Truly fortune guides this one Chandreskar-sama. He escaped a very dangerous situation with only scrapes and bruises.”
“I could sure use some of that secret fortune Minoru, if you’re willing to share.”
Minoru returned his black kimono to decency. “I had help. As for the secrets of my fortune perhaps later Oji-sama.”
Ayumu placed a satchet of herbs and amber bottle onto the richly polished desk. “Your weekly supplements, Chairman.”
“That will be all, Ayumu. You are dismissed.”
He bowed deeply to both men before quietly departing the office.
Automatic shades darkened and shielded the chamber from laser microphones and direct observation. The viewscreen was replaced with the feed from Chandreskar’s computer of a kaleidoscope collage of female models in the nude on a white sandy beach. The Chairman hastily dropped his coffee onto the floor before hammering on his keyboard to put it to a more neutral screen showing his company logo. “I am truly sorry about that, son. Thought I had it on the right feed. How embarrassing.”
Minoru rubbed his eyes, “Must we do this right now? I haven’t slept all night.”
“I am afraid that we must, Minoru. Your family was quite…upset…concerned that they had to hear about yesterday’s attack via INN rather than directly from you. Especially Omiko-chan, your father has Shin Yodama on a dropship already.”
“Because that’s all we need.” Ninyu Indrahar slammed open the door following closely by Percival Filington. He was still in his field uniform, a vibro-katana on his back, and machine pistol on his belt. “Another nine fingered freak in Masamori. You can’t walk two blocks in this city without finding one of their fronts.”
Percival spoke up resting his hand on the rapier at his hip. “Not every business in Masamori is a Yakuza front Ninyu-san. Some are legitimate enterprises with ambitions to serve the Dragon.”
“And your naivete is why we find ourselves in this position, Lord Filington. I strongly protested Theodore’s incorporation of the Ghost Regiments.” Ninyu poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter on the backbar, downing it quickly. “I figured something like this was inevitable.”
Minoru walked toward the glass attempting to peer through the darkness. “What was the security situation that drew you away Ninyu-sama?”
“A commando raid on Yamato Arsenal. Stealth suited perpetrators stole a prototype Stealth VTOL, one of the armored suits that attacked Isoroku during the summer, then abducted or assassinated key individuals before sabotaging the lab. No casualties on their side, too many on ours.
“Sore wa subete mechakuchadesu.”
“MI-Six?”
“On Hachiman! Hell no. I don’t know who it was, but they are good. Death Commando good.”
“Tormano?”
“Probably not. Our Capellan colonies are pumping plenty of poison into the Combine without him.
We should amputate them. Who knows what they will do next?”
Chandreskar tapped his cane on the tiled floor emitting a hollow sound. “It seems they have decided Minoru-kun is not off the table. HTE Corporate Security can ensure he is safe on HTI’s Campus or here as best we can. I can extend it further, but it will be difficult as I don’t have enough officers.
It might be that he needs to be evacuated.”
“I refuse to be evacuated, I chose to come here, and I won’t leave until I am ready. I have already done so before.”
Ninyu strode forward to stare down Chairman Kurita. “Do you truly think that your corporate security could match my ISF? No, I will assign my best men to his protection.”
Percival interrupted them, “Your people have a certain…reputation Deputy Director Indrahar. They don’t blend in here anymore since the reforms.”
“And see what that has gotten you, Percy! A looming gang war in your city.”
“The MMK Superintendent has informed me that the responsible party has been punished and will no longer be a problem.”
A chuckle erupted from Chandreskar. “That’s one way of saying the heads of their Capos have been delivered to Headquarters. Along with apology letters and restitution money from the other families.”
Minoru executed a speedy about face toward the other men. “Wait! Their heads! What happens to the rest of them?”
“I’ve been told they turn the rest to chum.”
“Appalling business, but reduce, reuse, recycle as they say.” He poured his own drink from the decanter. “Nothing goes to waste on Hachiman.”
Percy let the amber liquid linger on his palette. “Oh, this is very good, smooth. Glengarry Reserve, thirty-six?”
“On point as usual, Percy.”
Once more Minoru spoke up. “Percival makes a good point. Would the MMK provide an appropriate bodyguard detail?” Percival choked on his whiskey at the mention of his people being responsible for Minoru Kurita’s protection.
“It’s a large force. Surely there is someone who can keep a low profile, possesses local knowledge, and the appropriate skills.”
Ninyu Indrahar lingered behind Percival Filington’s shoulder, like a twisted shadow.
“I think it is as you say, Percival.”
“A splendid idea.”
“One I fully support.”