[FIC] The Most Dangerous Game (part 2)
Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2004 8:01 pm
Snug in the restraining straps of his M9, Kurz was not a happy camper. “Shit. This really sucks,” he complained. “All these back roads makes it easier to make our way undetected, but it’s out of the way, and I must have flattened twenty dumpsters by now. And a couple of cats and dogs, I think.”
“Stop your bellyaching, you big baby. All that f@cking whining is giving me a headache.” Melissa cursed silently to herself as she too caused some significant collateral damage. It would take a while for the municipality crews to straighten out that mess of downed power lines and fallen telephone poles. She wondered what everyone would think caused the damage.
“I just heard from the infiltration and containment teams,” the Sgt. Major continued. “They’re all in place and awaiting us. Before we get there, they will be busy with their videotape and tracing activities, attempting to identify anyone showing up or trying to leave in person, and hunting down electronic leads to anyone getting a direct feed of tonight’s big event. Our job’s easy in comparison, so shove a sock in it already!”
“Yeh, yeh, yeh. I should be kicking my heels together. Sousuke is the one with the tough assignment. We really should be helping him, instead of trying to rescue his best girl Kaname. The guys on foot can take care of that, can’t they?”
“Try not to be any more of a moron than usual, Weber. Who would you rather face, a resurrected Gauron, or Sousuke if we helped him and Kaname snuffed it?” Melissa gripped the controls a little tighter. The light-hearted banter did not disguise the fact that two people that meant the world to them were in great danger.
“Good point, Sis. Everyone once and a while I can see why they put you in command. Ususally I think it’s just because you have such a sweet ass. I would follow that anywhere, you know.” Kurz laughed, suddenly hoping Melissa wasn’t recording the conversation. A young lady stationed near the Alps could make Sgt, Major Mao look like a piker when she got her panties in a knot. “What building is Kaname in currently?” Flipping a series of switches, he brought up a map of the city, zeroed in on the desired coordinates, and zoomed in on the blocks in question.
“Looks like she’s been moved from the gambling parlor back into the rearmost warehouse. Her location has been stable for the past quarter of an hour. Your position grows more precarious with each f@cking minute, sergeant.” Melissa switched momentarily to another channel, receiving a message from the look-out team. “I just got word. The van dropped off Sousuke, and they’ve caught sight of him walking in. We’re going to have to pick up the pace.”
“Shit. This sucks even more!” Kurz knocked a small car onto its side, watching as the vehicle slid up onto a neighbor’s front porch. “I’m sure glad I’m not an insurance estimator. Those poor son of a bitches are going to be busy tomorrow.”
“Don’t get too wreckless, Kurzie boy. If our contacts in the JSDF or Japaneses government get wind of this, there may be some secret bills sent into the Finance clowns. They know where we live. And, they write our checks.” Melissa was only half joking.
“Thanks, babe. I feel so much better, now.” Kurz cringed as he knocked down a set of street lamps.
************************************************************
It was dark. Very. Dark. A large part of that was due to the thick fabric bag over her head. But, the room lights were off as well. Darkness upon darkness. And quiet. Dead quiet.
Kaname was worried, uncomfortable, and confused. Where was she? What would they do with her? Who were ‘they?’ Why was she here? When would anyone clue her in?
She didn’t remember much. After waking up in a small well lit room, she found herself tied to a chair. Her picture was taken. They had carried a dripping syringe over to her. There had been a prick in her arm. Then she woke up here, wherever that was. She was still bound. Any time she let herself get excited, the bag made it hard for her to breath. She had to stay as calm as possible.
Sousuke, she thought. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he know she was missing? Would he coming looking for her? The bracelet. He had given it to her. She had been so disappointed, so upset. It was still there. She felt a rush of gratitude, followed by the pins and needles of regret. Had she treated him so poorly that he would not try to contact her until it was too late? If only she could take back her words and make a different decision.
She had thought that the risk of being a Whispered would be somewhat lower by now. It was a tricky situation. If the risk was too high, she might be in danger of something just like this. If the risk wasn’t high enough, there might be no reason whatsoever for Mithril to keep Sousuke anywhere near her. Was this because of her special nature?
Suddenly, the noise of a door opening. Things got a little lighter. The overhead lights must be on. Footsteps. Well measured. Light. High heel shoes? A woman? The bag was pulled off of her head.
“Well, they certainly make bait cute these days, don’t they?” It was a woman. A young lady of oriental descent, not too much older than Kaname. She wore a sequined evening gown, fancy heels, a large pearl necklace, and jewel-studded bracelets and rings. Her midnight black hair was an ebony waterfall. Her lips and cheeks showed more than natural color. Her fingernails looked like bloody daggers.
“Where am I? Who are you?” Kaname blinked against the bright lights. Was this a rescuer? A tormenter? An apathetic observer?
“Why do they always as the same b-o-r-i-n-g questions? I guess it should be expected.” The girl took out a cigar not much thicker than a cigarette. She clipped off the end, lit it, and took a long pull. She breathed the smoke directly into Kaname’s face. “It’s not my job to answer your questions, my dear. But you are ever so fortunate. I’m in the mood to talk today.” The young lady flicked a few ashes over the captive.
“Why am I here?” Kaname asked, a little hotter than she had intended. She saw the other woman smile at her discomfort and irritation. It made her all the morte angry and determined. She hoped she’d have a chance some day to wipe that smile off of her painted face.
“I suppose I have been rather rude. I should introduce myself. My name is Maewe. Unless your fate is sealed, you will not hear my family name. My father is a man of some importance, and one of the founders of our special club. He is quite taken with your appearance, but there is no accounting for his taste. I was surprised at just how obviously he was cheating at cards, trying to win you. I had to win, just to frustrate him.” Her bell-like laughter rang across the large empty room. “I suppose I am to be your guard and your handler. Perhaps even your final arbiter. We could have been very good friends, but you are not my taste. Pity.”
A number of people walked into the room. They all wore livery, men and women alike. Some pushed carts laden with bottles, snifters, glasses, and ice buckets. Others carried in large platters of food and small trays of delicacies. The bulkier men struggled with large mahogany and maple gaming tables, roulette wheels, buckets of chips, and packs of cards and dice. One woman swung a small incense diffuser at the end of a fancy chain. Large bunches of flowers were brought in after crystal vases were put into place.
“As you can see” Maewe added, “You’re here at an auspicious time. It’s game night.” She laughed again, grabbing a crab puff from a passing tray. “I SO adore game night.” She did not elucidate.
Kaname used the silence as an opportunity to look about the room. She had no way of telling just how large it was, or how far it extended. Mammoth windows looked over a darkened expanse, mysterious in its total lack of definition. At the very least, the room was double-L shaped, the corners of the room very far apart.
“It is truly amazing what money can do” Maewe chirped, nibbling on a small French pastry. “That glass was designed for aquariums and high pressure research facilities. While the designers probably never gave thought to such a characteristic, it is completely bullet proof as well. Small and large caliber rounds might chip it and ruin the view some…” She sniffed, giving her opinion of that. “But, armor piercing rounds will prove no danger.” She left Kaname’s side, walking over to one of the drink carts.
Bulletproof? Why should THAT be so important. Just what did kaname find herself in the middle of this time?
“I’d offer you a drink, but your hands will remain tied for a little while longer.” Maewe had returned, a crystal goblet in hand. “My, that is quite a lovely brooch.” She reached out to fondle the jewelry, accidentally twisting one of the ornate flower petals. The microphone was now active. “Oh! I was afraid I had broken it. Just another touch of class, adjustable parts. I’ll have to get something like that made for me. Much classier, of course.” The woman grabbed Kaname’s ropes and hauled her to her feet. She was very strong.
The lights behind the glass went on. Kaname was speechless for a moment, trying to make sense of what she saw. Everything on this side of the glass is so fancy, so elegant. Everything on that side is so large, so imposing, so dreary. Brick walls, some intact and some partially crumbled, ran haphazardly across the floor of what appeared to be a huge warehouse. Old and new looking cabins, roofless houses, and small offices dotted the area, seemingly moved here intact. Wood plank bridges, metal scaffolding, ropes, and nets were commonplace, situated at various heights. There looked to be pools of machine oil…bins of metal scraps…huge rolls of parchment-like paper…stacks of lumber and copper pipes. Broken portions of huge shipping crates were outnumbered only by numerous barrels, some empty, and others leaking unknown materials.
“What?” was all Kaname could say, her mind trying to integrate everything she was seeing.
“Well, I must admit it does not have the charm of the Colosseum in Rome, but it serves its purpose beautifully.” Maewe paused and nodded to a group of well-dressed women who had made their way into the large room. “There are other arenas too…” She waved her hands towards large banks of plasma screen TVs covering various areas of the walls. Some were flickering to life, showing other similar enclosures. “But this one is where all the fashionable people hang out.” With a long stilleto-like knife, she cut Kaname’s bonds. “There are enough people around now. I can afford to be charitable. But, I hope you do not abuse my good nature.” She removed a small chrome-plated pistol from her purse.
Kaname began to put together a scenario that left her feeling weak and light-headed. “Sousuke.” She shivered, hoping she was wrong.
“Yes. That rather intriguing beau of yours. He is causing quite a buzz amongst the betting crowd. Of course, there is no chance of his surviving too long. But no one has any idea just how long he WILL last.” Maewe looked Kaname in the eye. “For your sake, I hope he lasts a good while.” Her smile would not have been out of place on a hyena.
“Why? What does this all have to do with me?” Kaname was afraid she knew.
“First” Maewe replied, holding up a single finger, “You need to be alive in case he demands to see you. Second,” she held up another finger. “There is still the unlikely chance that he might actually be the last man standing. If that were the case, you both would get to live. You would even receive a sizeable amount of money to buy your silence. We wouldn’t get many good voluntary competitors if we made our victors disappear or broke our promises.” Maewe walked all around Kaname, looking her up and down. “I suppose there is a third reason as well,” she sniffed. “You might serve a purpose in one of the local brothels, the ones with no chance of escape. Or, if you prove convincing enough, one of the wealthy men or women might favor you as a mistress or concubine.”
The number of people entering the room, the majority of whom wore fancy clothes or outlandish outfits, was increasing rapidly.
“Let’s go stake our claim to some of the good seats,” Maewe said, a strong sense of enthusiasm in her voice. “You’re not going to want to miss this.”
***********************************************************
Sousuke wasn’t used to this kind of street. Turnabout’s fair play. The street had not seen Sousuke’s like before.
Neon lights were everywhere. The noisy teeming mass of humanity came in all shapes, sizes, ages, sexes, and races. Roadside vendors hocked cheaply made wares. Drunkards looked for handouts. Hookers plied their trade. Pickpockets prowled about, looking for the unwary. Policemen looked the other way. Street musicians added to the general cacophony. A rather serious looking young man with a facial scar and a large duffel bag did not stand out.
The pickpocket had marked Sousuke. Grabbing what he thought was a simple wallet, he ran triumphantly into the crowd. The young mercenary pushed a button on his belt. The transmitter sent out a signal that detonated the pilfered item. Sousuke shook his head. He might have found a better use for that later.
A drunkard waited until Sousuke passed through a dark and sparcely populated area. He approached with a half empty bottle and a concealed butcher’s knife. Things did not go as he had planned, either. His intended target took a significant step towards convincing the man to sober up. Sousuke pushed the bottle halfway down the inebriated man’s throat.
Sousuke’s look didn’t actually scream look at me, I’ve got lot’s of money. That didn’t keep a trio of street walkers from surrounding him and rubbing their hands up and down his body. Sousuke was in no mood for delays. When one woman asked him if he liked what he saw, Sousuke flayed her to the quick with his reply. “If I were to waste my time and money on a woman of no value, shouldn’t I at least look for one who is attractive?” The hooker attempted to slap the impatient soldier across his face, but her wrist was caught and roughly broken. “I would also look for one who is not stupid.” He shoved the womern out of his way.
There was a loud whistle. Four large men, all dressed in black shirts and suits, moved to block Sousuke’s path. “Keep him there gentlemen. I believe he needs some instruction in manners, and how to treat a lady.” The speaker wore a large flat velvet hat, looking as cliché as such a hat possibly could. His coat and tie were a vivid magenta. His shoes were gold, and his polished wood walking stick was topped by a carved silver dragon.
Sousuke turned to face the pimp. “It would be in everyone’s best interest if I was not delayed.”
“Oh! My my my. Should we shiver in our shoes, gentlemen?” The pimp threw his hat to one of his girls. He took out a comb and fixed his hair. A small derringer-like gun dropped from up his sleeve down into his hand. “Perhaps he will be more respectful after we give him a massage. Make it rough. Very rough.” He snapped his fingers and the large men walked slowly towards their intended victim.
Sousuke recognized a number of Mithril operatives dressed in street clothes. With subtle hand gestures, he asked them to keep their distance. Without warning, he swung his bag in a vicious arc, connected with the side of the pimp’s head. The fancy man slammed hard into the ground, unconscious. The other four men looked surprised at first, but then became very determined. They moved to surround their target.
If it had been a deserted alley way, he would have shot the men and moved on to more important matters. He could not afford to be delayed by the police or carted off to jail. The martial arts training he received through Mithril instructors would have to suffice. That, and the tooth and nail skirmishing he grew up with in Afghanistan.
One enforcer reached Sousuke ahead of the others. His fate gave the others pause. An arm was not meant to move in that fashion, or to that anatomical point. His shoulder painfully dislocated, the man began to scream. A kick to the head silenced him.
The other three men looked at each other, then charged as a pack. They stayed close together purposefully, intending to use their shear weight to bring Sousuke to ground the way a group of lionesses drags down a Cape Buffalo. Their opponent rolled hard at their feet, knocking them down in a cumbersome tangle. A savage chop across the trachea of one man changed his priorities, as he quickly grew blue in the face. A fierce kick to the groin left another man retching. The third man made it to his feet, drew an wicked looking knife, and took up a well-balanced fighting stance. He managed a shallow slash along Sousuke’s arm as the younger man jumped heels first. Sprawled awkwardly on the ground, he watched helplessly as a fist sent him to dreamland.
“Tell your friends they should not expect this kind of charity if we meet again. It would be to all of your advantages to stay out of my way in the future. I am not usually this forgiving.” Sousuke headed off in his intended direction.
There were no further mishaps before he reached The Happy Crane mahjong parlor and gambling house. A large crowd surrounded that establishment and similar ones up and down the busy street. The man at the door, toothless and near hairless, bowed as the young man approached. “Welcome to our humble store, young master. How may I help you?” His eyes went very wide when Sousuke showed him the invitation he had been sent. “Right this way. They have been expecting you. I am to inform you that there is time for a girl or a game of mahjong, should either be to your liking. That, and any manner of fine food and drink you might wish. Otherwise, I am to show you a mural that will be to your liking.”
A mural? Sousuke could not fathom the intent behind that word. “I wish to reach my destination as soon as possible. I do not desire to be distracted. Please lead the way.”
The old man, dragging one foot as he walked, cleared a path through the noisy crowd. Live roosters filled cages and lugubrious goldfish swam in ornate bowls, prizes for the younger crowd. The parlor rooms were filled past recommended capacity. A fair number of matches were in progress, and money changed hands for many different reasons. Pretty girls sat on patrons’ laps, and a small corner bar did good business. Smoke, perfume, food odors, and the stench of unwashed bodies mixed. The noise level was tremendous.
Making his way into a dark and narrow corridor, the guide led Sousuke to a better lit area devoid of patrons. A beautiful mosaic mural filled the back wall, depicting a scene from feudal Japan. The old man rapped on the wall and pulled a small rope, causing a bell to sound. A few moments later, a panel slid upward, revealing a simple metal door. The old man inserted a key into the lock, turned it, then pushed open the door. Two nondescript men in well cut suits waited just past the threshold. They bowed to Sousuke and gestured that he should follow them. He did.
The passageway lead to rickety old stairs, which in turn descended down into a narrow tunnel. Walls lined with bricks and crumbling mortar, the tunnel was lit by a series of oil lamps. It veered here and there, but mostly followed a fairly straight course. The older construction gave way to plaster walls, cinderblock, and electrical lighting. Sousuke and his companions had to wait at each of a number of locked metal gates. Men with guns and walkie talkies were present at each checkpoint.
Finally, the tunnel gave way to another flight of stairs, this one headed upward. At the top of those stairs, the men took up station and motioned for Sousuke to keep walking. He did so, stopping when he was met by a short and broad man with a salt-and-pepper goatee and a pinstripe suit. “Mr. Sagara, is it not?” The man smiled when Sousuke nodded his head. “We are all so very pleased that you chose to join roster of competitors. I hope you had no trouble finding your way here.”
Sousuke held up one hand abruptly, causing the well-tailored man to frown involuntarily. “Miss Chidori. How is she? I will need to see proof that she is alive and unharmed before I go any further.” The sheer authority in the voice of someone so young caught the man off guard. “I hope for your sake that she is fine.” The look on Sousuke’s face would have brought the Devil himself up short. The man felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. This was certainly invigorating. Unpleasant, but invigorating.
“We anticipated your request. I can assure you that she has been well taken care of. If you will step over to this small room, there is a television monitor and a telephone. They will provide you with all the proof you need.” The man pushed a series of buttons, activating the appropriate cameras and routing systems. He dialed a number on a telephone and handed the receiver to Sousuke. “Please do not ask any leading questions. Simply satisfy yourself that the young lady is unharmed.”
After talking briefly with Kaname, Sousuke indicated that he was ready to proceed.
“The rules and stipulations will be explained to you in a little while. You will be instructed in the nature of our little competition when you reach your holding cell. Each cell has a number of remotely operated doors, each opening onto a different hallway leading to one of multiple arenas. Whenever a door opens, you will have ten seconds before it closes. If you fail to enter a hallway, or do not reach the intended destination promptly, you will be disqualified. You will be considered dead, for the purposes of the game.” The way the man said that latter bit, Sousuke had no doubt that his death would be more than a simple game consideration.
“Will I be given any idea what to expect, in regards to my opponents?” Sousuke doubted that he would receive such a boon.
“No. You need remember only one thing. There will be NO innocents walking in the arenas. Anyone you see will be your foe. At most, one man or woman will leave the fighting areas. Alive, that is.” The man spoke as he shepherded Sousuke along a wide utilitarian passageway, the walls displaying pictures of past winners. Some of the faces were familiar. One caught Sousuke’s attention. Gauron. He paused, unable to tear his gaze away. “Do you know that man?” his host asked, stopping, a quizzical look on his face.
“Yes,” Sousuke said. “We had met on many occasions. Him, his cohorts, and one of his sons.”
The man smiled. Nothing like a little inside information. The young man would be worth betting on. “I see. His was a most memorable match. In fact, afterwards, he somehow managed to become a charter member of our club, after a few older members suddenly fell ill and died. He has not been heard from in quite a while.”
Sousuke did not answer. The look in his eyes told the man everything he needed to know. He would be betting heavily tonight.
“Ah, here we are. Your room. Please make yourself comfortable. Someone will be with you very soon. Good luck!” His parting remark was said with complete sincerity. The young man might very well provide him with a windfall.
Looking around the simple room, Sousuke chose to sit on a high-backed chair rather than recline on a spartan bed. He set down his bag, opened it, and proceeded to check each and every one of its contents. He took a quick look at a picture of Kaname and himself at the beach. He waited.
************************************************************
Tessa and Lt. Concepcion each whispered a silent prayer of thanks. Sousuke’s decision to provide Kaname with a disguised and undetectable microphone was paying HUGE dividends.
Kaname’s personal shadow, one Maewe, would likely be Maewe Segawa, daughter of Kazuo Segawa, a wealthy industrialist with rumored connections to organized crime and foreign intelligence agencies. The man had a lot of powerful friends and had been a mercenary in his youth. His name had been brought up in connection with countless crimes, but nothing could ever be proven.
The young lady had made it a point not to mention her family name, but there were not many Maewes officially listed in Japan. Intel felt good with their educated guess. Despite her personal discretion, the rather talkative girl had no trouble using everyone else’s full names as she introduced Kaname around. That fact, however, did not bode well for Kaname.
So far, the names mentions---and the voices recorded---included politicians; captains of industry; gangsters; assorted blue bloods and black marketeers; a notable philanthropist; and even a small number of high-ranking military officials.
Tessa, Casimira, and Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin had difficult decisions to make. So far, they were in complete agreement that the rescue teams would remain on standby. The more names they harvested, the better. Tessa felt guilty leaving Kaname in such a dangerous situation, but the rewards were worth the risk. Likewise, she was of two minds regarding Sousuke. Should they let him fight? Should they move in before a single shot is fired? The longer they waited, the greater the number of distant leads that could be traced and recorded would be. Some watchers might not even tune into the show until the battles were well under way.
To make an omelet, one has to break some eggs Cmdr. Mardukas had put in. Tessa felt extremely nervous. All of the eggs were in HER basket. A lot was at stake here.
Instructions were wired in to Sgt. Major Mao and the strike teams.
************************************************************
After all of the important guests and patrons were determined to be present, the requisite speeches and requests for donations were made with great verve and aplomb. The crowd was enthusiastic. The betting promised to be lively and unpredictable.
Kazuo Segawa, a notable industrialist and former mercenary, acted as master of ceremonies. For the benefit of the newcomers, the portly but muscular man explained the basics of the competition . Betting regulations were described, leaving no room for uncertainty or misconceptions. The excitement grew with every passing moment.
When his fellow founding member had finished his spiel, Shigeo Yamada stood on top of one of the tables, his long gaunt frame looking much longer than it really was. An avid historian, his eyes burned with unholy anticipation. This year’s theme promised to be rather memorable.
A number of the TV monitors in the room came to life, showing the opening scenes of Gladiator. Others still flickered on, giving the crowd the opportunity to watch the opening credits to Ben Hur. “As some of you might guess, the theme for this year’s contest is Roman gladiatorial games.” Mr. Yamada spoke with a vibrant and captivating voice. “Our hand picked warriors, the equivalent of the gladiators, are willing to join in mortal combat, spilling their blood on the sand for your admiration and entertainment. As in those ancient days, some of the fighters are criminals and prisoners of war expatriated for the purpose of theses games. Others are violent and deadly men wanting to voluntarily prove themselves the equal of trained warriors. The majority, however, are the crème de la crème, shining examples of mercenaries, professional soldiers, and veterans of law enforcement agencies from the far corners of the globe. We are all in for one hell of a main event.”
When the crowd ceased in their applause, Mr. Yamada continued. “In keeping with our theme, the main event will be preceded by the venatio. The hunt. We will release wild beasts into our arenas. Trained pit bulls and wolves. A pair of leopards. A pride of lionesses. A bull elephant. Facing the dangerous and exotic beasts, the bestiarius will fight for promised money and for their lives. Armed with knives, clubs, and spears, our brave troop of drunkards, pimps, and ne’er-do-wells will provide us all with a wonderful spectacle and a chance for some spirited wagering. Please check under your dinner plates. Those of you with an animal head mark will win tonight’s door prizes, fine animal pelts and trophy heads.”
“Following the hunt, we will begin with the preliminary matches of our competition. But, as a first matter of business, we have an unexpected pleasure for you all. Tonight we will be privileged to start with the humiliores, the execution of citizens of lower status. In Ancient Rome, the usual forms of execution included crucifixion and burning at the stake. However, as we have fire marshals and men of the cloth with us tonight, we will instead resort to ad bestias, the throwing of the condemned to the beasts. This will also serve as a stark reminder to every man, woman, and child present here tonight. Kazuo, I’ll turn matters over to you.”
“Thank you, Shigeo. I must say that you have outdone yourself this year. Before we begin, I want to stress the importance of discretion. And trust. All of our reputations depend on it. All of your lives depend on it. Every so often, we come across someone who makes a mockery of our good graces and faith. When such men and women are discovered, they are dealt with swiftly and permanently.” The pronunciation of that last word was chilling. “Usually, such matters are kept private. Tonight, it will be public spectacle. Gentleman.” Mr. Segawa nodded to a group of burly men who promptly left the room. When they returned, they were dragging two struggling men. “Mr. Gustafson, one of our newest members, turns out to be an investigative journalist. Mr. Adeniji, one of our long-standing partners, was caught in the act of embezzlement. They have therefore forfeited their memberships and their lives. Take them away if you please. Shigeo…”
“Thank you, Kazuo. LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!!”
Kaname stood stunned. She felt dirty, just being an unwilling part of that crowd. It was like something out of a nightmare. She kept pinching herself hard, hoping that she’s wake up. Her very humanity cried out in sorrow for the men sentenced to summary execution and the poor soul’s throwing their lives away for a chance at filthy lucre. Most of all, she was worried for Sousuke. She must use her wits and find some way she could be of service to him.
She smiled. She knew just the thing.
************************************************************
End of part 2.
“Stop your bellyaching, you big baby. All that f@cking whining is giving me a headache.” Melissa cursed silently to herself as she too caused some significant collateral damage. It would take a while for the municipality crews to straighten out that mess of downed power lines and fallen telephone poles. She wondered what everyone would think caused the damage.
“I just heard from the infiltration and containment teams,” the Sgt. Major continued. “They’re all in place and awaiting us. Before we get there, they will be busy with their videotape and tracing activities, attempting to identify anyone showing up or trying to leave in person, and hunting down electronic leads to anyone getting a direct feed of tonight’s big event. Our job’s easy in comparison, so shove a sock in it already!”
“Yeh, yeh, yeh. I should be kicking my heels together. Sousuke is the one with the tough assignment. We really should be helping him, instead of trying to rescue his best girl Kaname. The guys on foot can take care of that, can’t they?”
“Try not to be any more of a moron than usual, Weber. Who would you rather face, a resurrected Gauron, or Sousuke if we helped him and Kaname snuffed it?” Melissa gripped the controls a little tighter. The light-hearted banter did not disguise the fact that two people that meant the world to them were in great danger.
“Good point, Sis. Everyone once and a while I can see why they put you in command. Ususally I think it’s just because you have such a sweet ass. I would follow that anywhere, you know.” Kurz laughed, suddenly hoping Melissa wasn’t recording the conversation. A young lady stationed near the Alps could make Sgt, Major Mao look like a piker when she got her panties in a knot. “What building is Kaname in currently?” Flipping a series of switches, he brought up a map of the city, zeroed in on the desired coordinates, and zoomed in on the blocks in question.
“Looks like she’s been moved from the gambling parlor back into the rearmost warehouse. Her location has been stable for the past quarter of an hour. Your position grows more precarious with each f@cking minute, sergeant.” Melissa switched momentarily to another channel, receiving a message from the look-out team. “I just got word. The van dropped off Sousuke, and they’ve caught sight of him walking in. We’re going to have to pick up the pace.”
“Shit. This sucks even more!” Kurz knocked a small car onto its side, watching as the vehicle slid up onto a neighbor’s front porch. “I’m sure glad I’m not an insurance estimator. Those poor son of a bitches are going to be busy tomorrow.”
“Don’t get too wreckless, Kurzie boy. If our contacts in the JSDF or Japaneses government get wind of this, there may be some secret bills sent into the Finance clowns. They know where we live. And, they write our checks.” Melissa was only half joking.
“Thanks, babe. I feel so much better, now.” Kurz cringed as he knocked down a set of street lamps.
************************************************************
It was dark. Very. Dark. A large part of that was due to the thick fabric bag over her head. But, the room lights were off as well. Darkness upon darkness. And quiet. Dead quiet.
Kaname was worried, uncomfortable, and confused. Where was she? What would they do with her? Who were ‘they?’ Why was she here? When would anyone clue her in?
She didn’t remember much. After waking up in a small well lit room, she found herself tied to a chair. Her picture was taken. They had carried a dripping syringe over to her. There had been a prick in her arm. Then she woke up here, wherever that was. She was still bound. Any time she let herself get excited, the bag made it hard for her to breath. She had to stay as calm as possible.
Sousuke, she thought. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he know she was missing? Would he coming looking for her? The bracelet. He had given it to her. She had been so disappointed, so upset. It was still there. She felt a rush of gratitude, followed by the pins and needles of regret. Had she treated him so poorly that he would not try to contact her until it was too late? If only she could take back her words and make a different decision.
She had thought that the risk of being a Whispered would be somewhat lower by now. It was a tricky situation. If the risk was too high, she might be in danger of something just like this. If the risk wasn’t high enough, there might be no reason whatsoever for Mithril to keep Sousuke anywhere near her. Was this because of her special nature?
Suddenly, the noise of a door opening. Things got a little lighter. The overhead lights must be on. Footsteps. Well measured. Light. High heel shoes? A woman? The bag was pulled off of her head.
“Well, they certainly make bait cute these days, don’t they?” It was a woman. A young lady of oriental descent, not too much older than Kaname. She wore a sequined evening gown, fancy heels, a large pearl necklace, and jewel-studded bracelets and rings. Her midnight black hair was an ebony waterfall. Her lips and cheeks showed more than natural color. Her fingernails looked like bloody daggers.
“Where am I? Who are you?” Kaname blinked against the bright lights. Was this a rescuer? A tormenter? An apathetic observer?
“Why do they always as the same b-o-r-i-n-g questions? I guess it should be expected.” The girl took out a cigar not much thicker than a cigarette. She clipped off the end, lit it, and took a long pull. She breathed the smoke directly into Kaname’s face. “It’s not my job to answer your questions, my dear. But you are ever so fortunate. I’m in the mood to talk today.” The young lady flicked a few ashes over the captive.
“Why am I here?” Kaname asked, a little hotter than she had intended. She saw the other woman smile at her discomfort and irritation. It made her all the morte angry and determined. She hoped she’d have a chance some day to wipe that smile off of her painted face.
“I suppose I have been rather rude. I should introduce myself. My name is Maewe. Unless your fate is sealed, you will not hear my family name. My father is a man of some importance, and one of the founders of our special club. He is quite taken with your appearance, but there is no accounting for his taste. I was surprised at just how obviously he was cheating at cards, trying to win you. I had to win, just to frustrate him.” Her bell-like laughter rang across the large empty room. “I suppose I am to be your guard and your handler. Perhaps even your final arbiter. We could have been very good friends, but you are not my taste. Pity.”
A number of people walked into the room. They all wore livery, men and women alike. Some pushed carts laden with bottles, snifters, glasses, and ice buckets. Others carried in large platters of food and small trays of delicacies. The bulkier men struggled with large mahogany and maple gaming tables, roulette wheels, buckets of chips, and packs of cards and dice. One woman swung a small incense diffuser at the end of a fancy chain. Large bunches of flowers were brought in after crystal vases were put into place.
“As you can see” Maewe added, “You’re here at an auspicious time. It’s game night.” She laughed again, grabbing a crab puff from a passing tray. “I SO adore game night.” She did not elucidate.
Kaname used the silence as an opportunity to look about the room. She had no way of telling just how large it was, or how far it extended. Mammoth windows looked over a darkened expanse, mysterious in its total lack of definition. At the very least, the room was double-L shaped, the corners of the room very far apart.
“It is truly amazing what money can do” Maewe chirped, nibbling on a small French pastry. “That glass was designed for aquariums and high pressure research facilities. While the designers probably never gave thought to such a characteristic, it is completely bullet proof as well. Small and large caliber rounds might chip it and ruin the view some…” She sniffed, giving her opinion of that. “But, armor piercing rounds will prove no danger.” She left Kaname’s side, walking over to one of the drink carts.
Bulletproof? Why should THAT be so important. Just what did kaname find herself in the middle of this time?
“I’d offer you a drink, but your hands will remain tied for a little while longer.” Maewe had returned, a crystal goblet in hand. “My, that is quite a lovely brooch.” She reached out to fondle the jewelry, accidentally twisting one of the ornate flower petals. The microphone was now active. “Oh! I was afraid I had broken it. Just another touch of class, adjustable parts. I’ll have to get something like that made for me. Much classier, of course.” The woman grabbed Kaname’s ropes and hauled her to her feet. She was very strong.
The lights behind the glass went on. Kaname was speechless for a moment, trying to make sense of what she saw. Everything on this side of the glass is so fancy, so elegant. Everything on that side is so large, so imposing, so dreary. Brick walls, some intact and some partially crumbled, ran haphazardly across the floor of what appeared to be a huge warehouse. Old and new looking cabins, roofless houses, and small offices dotted the area, seemingly moved here intact. Wood plank bridges, metal scaffolding, ropes, and nets were commonplace, situated at various heights. There looked to be pools of machine oil…bins of metal scraps…huge rolls of parchment-like paper…stacks of lumber and copper pipes. Broken portions of huge shipping crates were outnumbered only by numerous barrels, some empty, and others leaking unknown materials.
“What?” was all Kaname could say, her mind trying to integrate everything she was seeing.
“Well, I must admit it does not have the charm of the Colosseum in Rome, but it serves its purpose beautifully.” Maewe paused and nodded to a group of well-dressed women who had made their way into the large room. “There are other arenas too…” She waved her hands towards large banks of plasma screen TVs covering various areas of the walls. Some were flickering to life, showing other similar enclosures. “But this one is where all the fashionable people hang out.” With a long stilleto-like knife, she cut Kaname’s bonds. “There are enough people around now. I can afford to be charitable. But, I hope you do not abuse my good nature.” She removed a small chrome-plated pistol from her purse.
Kaname began to put together a scenario that left her feeling weak and light-headed. “Sousuke.” She shivered, hoping she was wrong.
“Yes. That rather intriguing beau of yours. He is causing quite a buzz amongst the betting crowd. Of course, there is no chance of his surviving too long. But no one has any idea just how long he WILL last.” Maewe looked Kaname in the eye. “For your sake, I hope he lasts a good while.” Her smile would not have been out of place on a hyena.
“Why? What does this all have to do with me?” Kaname was afraid she knew.
“First” Maewe replied, holding up a single finger, “You need to be alive in case he demands to see you. Second,” she held up another finger. “There is still the unlikely chance that he might actually be the last man standing. If that were the case, you both would get to live. You would even receive a sizeable amount of money to buy your silence. We wouldn’t get many good voluntary competitors if we made our victors disappear or broke our promises.” Maewe walked all around Kaname, looking her up and down. “I suppose there is a third reason as well,” she sniffed. “You might serve a purpose in one of the local brothels, the ones with no chance of escape. Or, if you prove convincing enough, one of the wealthy men or women might favor you as a mistress or concubine.”
The number of people entering the room, the majority of whom wore fancy clothes or outlandish outfits, was increasing rapidly.
“Let’s go stake our claim to some of the good seats,” Maewe said, a strong sense of enthusiasm in her voice. “You’re not going to want to miss this.”
***********************************************************
Sousuke wasn’t used to this kind of street. Turnabout’s fair play. The street had not seen Sousuke’s like before.
Neon lights were everywhere. The noisy teeming mass of humanity came in all shapes, sizes, ages, sexes, and races. Roadside vendors hocked cheaply made wares. Drunkards looked for handouts. Hookers plied their trade. Pickpockets prowled about, looking for the unwary. Policemen looked the other way. Street musicians added to the general cacophony. A rather serious looking young man with a facial scar and a large duffel bag did not stand out.
The pickpocket had marked Sousuke. Grabbing what he thought was a simple wallet, he ran triumphantly into the crowd. The young mercenary pushed a button on his belt. The transmitter sent out a signal that detonated the pilfered item. Sousuke shook his head. He might have found a better use for that later.
A drunkard waited until Sousuke passed through a dark and sparcely populated area. He approached with a half empty bottle and a concealed butcher’s knife. Things did not go as he had planned, either. His intended target took a significant step towards convincing the man to sober up. Sousuke pushed the bottle halfway down the inebriated man’s throat.
Sousuke’s look didn’t actually scream look at me, I’ve got lot’s of money. That didn’t keep a trio of street walkers from surrounding him and rubbing their hands up and down his body. Sousuke was in no mood for delays. When one woman asked him if he liked what he saw, Sousuke flayed her to the quick with his reply. “If I were to waste my time and money on a woman of no value, shouldn’t I at least look for one who is attractive?” The hooker attempted to slap the impatient soldier across his face, but her wrist was caught and roughly broken. “I would also look for one who is not stupid.” He shoved the womern out of his way.
There was a loud whistle. Four large men, all dressed in black shirts and suits, moved to block Sousuke’s path. “Keep him there gentlemen. I believe he needs some instruction in manners, and how to treat a lady.” The speaker wore a large flat velvet hat, looking as cliché as such a hat possibly could. His coat and tie were a vivid magenta. His shoes were gold, and his polished wood walking stick was topped by a carved silver dragon.
Sousuke turned to face the pimp. “It would be in everyone’s best interest if I was not delayed.”
“Oh! My my my. Should we shiver in our shoes, gentlemen?” The pimp threw his hat to one of his girls. He took out a comb and fixed his hair. A small derringer-like gun dropped from up his sleeve down into his hand. “Perhaps he will be more respectful after we give him a massage. Make it rough. Very rough.” He snapped his fingers and the large men walked slowly towards their intended victim.
Sousuke recognized a number of Mithril operatives dressed in street clothes. With subtle hand gestures, he asked them to keep their distance. Without warning, he swung his bag in a vicious arc, connected with the side of the pimp’s head. The fancy man slammed hard into the ground, unconscious. The other four men looked surprised at first, but then became very determined. They moved to surround their target.
If it had been a deserted alley way, he would have shot the men and moved on to more important matters. He could not afford to be delayed by the police or carted off to jail. The martial arts training he received through Mithril instructors would have to suffice. That, and the tooth and nail skirmishing he grew up with in Afghanistan.
One enforcer reached Sousuke ahead of the others. His fate gave the others pause. An arm was not meant to move in that fashion, or to that anatomical point. His shoulder painfully dislocated, the man began to scream. A kick to the head silenced him.
The other three men looked at each other, then charged as a pack. They stayed close together purposefully, intending to use their shear weight to bring Sousuke to ground the way a group of lionesses drags down a Cape Buffalo. Their opponent rolled hard at their feet, knocking them down in a cumbersome tangle. A savage chop across the trachea of one man changed his priorities, as he quickly grew blue in the face. A fierce kick to the groin left another man retching. The third man made it to his feet, drew an wicked looking knife, and took up a well-balanced fighting stance. He managed a shallow slash along Sousuke’s arm as the younger man jumped heels first. Sprawled awkwardly on the ground, he watched helplessly as a fist sent him to dreamland.
“Tell your friends they should not expect this kind of charity if we meet again. It would be to all of your advantages to stay out of my way in the future. I am not usually this forgiving.” Sousuke headed off in his intended direction.
There were no further mishaps before he reached The Happy Crane mahjong parlor and gambling house. A large crowd surrounded that establishment and similar ones up and down the busy street. The man at the door, toothless and near hairless, bowed as the young man approached. “Welcome to our humble store, young master. How may I help you?” His eyes went very wide when Sousuke showed him the invitation he had been sent. “Right this way. They have been expecting you. I am to inform you that there is time for a girl or a game of mahjong, should either be to your liking. That, and any manner of fine food and drink you might wish. Otherwise, I am to show you a mural that will be to your liking.”
A mural? Sousuke could not fathom the intent behind that word. “I wish to reach my destination as soon as possible. I do not desire to be distracted. Please lead the way.”
The old man, dragging one foot as he walked, cleared a path through the noisy crowd. Live roosters filled cages and lugubrious goldfish swam in ornate bowls, prizes for the younger crowd. The parlor rooms were filled past recommended capacity. A fair number of matches were in progress, and money changed hands for many different reasons. Pretty girls sat on patrons’ laps, and a small corner bar did good business. Smoke, perfume, food odors, and the stench of unwashed bodies mixed. The noise level was tremendous.
Making his way into a dark and narrow corridor, the guide led Sousuke to a better lit area devoid of patrons. A beautiful mosaic mural filled the back wall, depicting a scene from feudal Japan. The old man rapped on the wall and pulled a small rope, causing a bell to sound. A few moments later, a panel slid upward, revealing a simple metal door. The old man inserted a key into the lock, turned it, then pushed open the door. Two nondescript men in well cut suits waited just past the threshold. They bowed to Sousuke and gestured that he should follow them. He did.
The passageway lead to rickety old stairs, which in turn descended down into a narrow tunnel. Walls lined with bricks and crumbling mortar, the tunnel was lit by a series of oil lamps. It veered here and there, but mostly followed a fairly straight course. The older construction gave way to plaster walls, cinderblock, and electrical lighting. Sousuke and his companions had to wait at each of a number of locked metal gates. Men with guns and walkie talkies were present at each checkpoint.
Finally, the tunnel gave way to another flight of stairs, this one headed upward. At the top of those stairs, the men took up station and motioned for Sousuke to keep walking. He did so, stopping when he was met by a short and broad man with a salt-and-pepper goatee and a pinstripe suit. “Mr. Sagara, is it not?” The man smiled when Sousuke nodded his head. “We are all so very pleased that you chose to join roster of competitors. I hope you had no trouble finding your way here.”
Sousuke held up one hand abruptly, causing the well-tailored man to frown involuntarily. “Miss Chidori. How is she? I will need to see proof that she is alive and unharmed before I go any further.” The sheer authority in the voice of someone so young caught the man off guard. “I hope for your sake that she is fine.” The look on Sousuke’s face would have brought the Devil himself up short. The man felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. This was certainly invigorating. Unpleasant, but invigorating.
“We anticipated your request. I can assure you that she has been well taken care of. If you will step over to this small room, there is a television monitor and a telephone. They will provide you with all the proof you need.” The man pushed a series of buttons, activating the appropriate cameras and routing systems. He dialed a number on a telephone and handed the receiver to Sousuke. “Please do not ask any leading questions. Simply satisfy yourself that the young lady is unharmed.”
After talking briefly with Kaname, Sousuke indicated that he was ready to proceed.
“The rules and stipulations will be explained to you in a little while. You will be instructed in the nature of our little competition when you reach your holding cell. Each cell has a number of remotely operated doors, each opening onto a different hallway leading to one of multiple arenas. Whenever a door opens, you will have ten seconds before it closes. If you fail to enter a hallway, or do not reach the intended destination promptly, you will be disqualified. You will be considered dead, for the purposes of the game.” The way the man said that latter bit, Sousuke had no doubt that his death would be more than a simple game consideration.
“Will I be given any idea what to expect, in regards to my opponents?” Sousuke doubted that he would receive such a boon.
“No. You need remember only one thing. There will be NO innocents walking in the arenas. Anyone you see will be your foe. At most, one man or woman will leave the fighting areas. Alive, that is.” The man spoke as he shepherded Sousuke along a wide utilitarian passageway, the walls displaying pictures of past winners. Some of the faces were familiar. One caught Sousuke’s attention. Gauron. He paused, unable to tear his gaze away. “Do you know that man?” his host asked, stopping, a quizzical look on his face.
“Yes,” Sousuke said. “We had met on many occasions. Him, his cohorts, and one of his sons.”
The man smiled. Nothing like a little inside information. The young man would be worth betting on. “I see. His was a most memorable match. In fact, afterwards, he somehow managed to become a charter member of our club, after a few older members suddenly fell ill and died. He has not been heard from in quite a while.”
Sousuke did not answer. The look in his eyes told the man everything he needed to know. He would be betting heavily tonight.
“Ah, here we are. Your room. Please make yourself comfortable. Someone will be with you very soon. Good luck!” His parting remark was said with complete sincerity. The young man might very well provide him with a windfall.
Looking around the simple room, Sousuke chose to sit on a high-backed chair rather than recline on a spartan bed. He set down his bag, opened it, and proceeded to check each and every one of its contents. He took a quick look at a picture of Kaname and himself at the beach. He waited.
************************************************************
Tessa and Lt. Concepcion each whispered a silent prayer of thanks. Sousuke’s decision to provide Kaname with a disguised and undetectable microphone was paying HUGE dividends.
Kaname’s personal shadow, one Maewe, would likely be Maewe Segawa, daughter of Kazuo Segawa, a wealthy industrialist with rumored connections to organized crime and foreign intelligence agencies. The man had a lot of powerful friends and had been a mercenary in his youth. His name had been brought up in connection with countless crimes, but nothing could ever be proven.
The young lady had made it a point not to mention her family name, but there were not many Maewes officially listed in Japan. Intel felt good with their educated guess. Despite her personal discretion, the rather talkative girl had no trouble using everyone else’s full names as she introduced Kaname around. That fact, however, did not bode well for Kaname.
So far, the names mentions---and the voices recorded---included politicians; captains of industry; gangsters; assorted blue bloods and black marketeers; a notable philanthropist; and even a small number of high-ranking military officials.
Tessa, Casimira, and Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin had difficult decisions to make. So far, they were in complete agreement that the rescue teams would remain on standby. The more names they harvested, the better. Tessa felt guilty leaving Kaname in such a dangerous situation, but the rewards were worth the risk. Likewise, she was of two minds regarding Sousuke. Should they let him fight? Should they move in before a single shot is fired? The longer they waited, the greater the number of distant leads that could be traced and recorded would be. Some watchers might not even tune into the show until the battles were well under way.
To make an omelet, one has to break some eggs Cmdr. Mardukas had put in. Tessa felt extremely nervous. All of the eggs were in HER basket. A lot was at stake here.
Instructions were wired in to Sgt. Major Mao and the strike teams.
************************************************************
After all of the important guests and patrons were determined to be present, the requisite speeches and requests for donations were made with great verve and aplomb. The crowd was enthusiastic. The betting promised to be lively and unpredictable.
Kazuo Segawa, a notable industrialist and former mercenary, acted as master of ceremonies. For the benefit of the newcomers, the portly but muscular man explained the basics of the competition . Betting regulations were described, leaving no room for uncertainty or misconceptions. The excitement grew with every passing moment.
When his fellow founding member had finished his spiel, Shigeo Yamada stood on top of one of the tables, his long gaunt frame looking much longer than it really was. An avid historian, his eyes burned with unholy anticipation. This year’s theme promised to be rather memorable.
A number of the TV monitors in the room came to life, showing the opening scenes of Gladiator. Others still flickered on, giving the crowd the opportunity to watch the opening credits to Ben Hur. “As some of you might guess, the theme for this year’s contest is Roman gladiatorial games.” Mr. Yamada spoke with a vibrant and captivating voice. “Our hand picked warriors, the equivalent of the gladiators, are willing to join in mortal combat, spilling their blood on the sand for your admiration and entertainment. As in those ancient days, some of the fighters are criminals and prisoners of war expatriated for the purpose of theses games. Others are violent and deadly men wanting to voluntarily prove themselves the equal of trained warriors. The majority, however, are the crème de la crème, shining examples of mercenaries, professional soldiers, and veterans of law enforcement agencies from the far corners of the globe. We are all in for one hell of a main event.”
When the crowd ceased in their applause, Mr. Yamada continued. “In keeping with our theme, the main event will be preceded by the venatio. The hunt. We will release wild beasts into our arenas. Trained pit bulls and wolves. A pair of leopards. A pride of lionesses. A bull elephant. Facing the dangerous and exotic beasts, the bestiarius will fight for promised money and for their lives. Armed with knives, clubs, and spears, our brave troop of drunkards, pimps, and ne’er-do-wells will provide us all with a wonderful spectacle and a chance for some spirited wagering. Please check under your dinner plates. Those of you with an animal head mark will win tonight’s door prizes, fine animal pelts and trophy heads.”
“Following the hunt, we will begin with the preliminary matches of our competition. But, as a first matter of business, we have an unexpected pleasure for you all. Tonight we will be privileged to start with the humiliores, the execution of citizens of lower status. In Ancient Rome, the usual forms of execution included crucifixion and burning at the stake. However, as we have fire marshals and men of the cloth with us tonight, we will instead resort to ad bestias, the throwing of the condemned to the beasts. This will also serve as a stark reminder to every man, woman, and child present here tonight. Kazuo, I’ll turn matters over to you.”
“Thank you, Shigeo. I must say that you have outdone yourself this year. Before we begin, I want to stress the importance of discretion. And trust. All of our reputations depend on it. All of your lives depend on it. Every so often, we come across someone who makes a mockery of our good graces and faith. When such men and women are discovered, they are dealt with swiftly and permanently.” The pronunciation of that last word was chilling. “Usually, such matters are kept private. Tonight, it will be public spectacle. Gentleman.” Mr. Segawa nodded to a group of burly men who promptly left the room. When they returned, they were dragging two struggling men. “Mr. Gustafson, one of our newest members, turns out to be an investigative journalist. Mr. Adeniji, one of our long-standing partners, was caught in the act of embezzlement. They have therefore forfeited their memberships and their lives. Take them away if you please. Shigeo…”
“Thank you, Kazuo. LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!!”
Kaname stood stunned. She felt dirty, just being an unwilling part of that crowd. It was like something out of a nightmare. She kept pinching herself hard, hoping that she’s wake up. Her very humanity cried out in sorrow for the men sentenced to summary execution and the poor soul’s throwing their lives away for a chance at filthy lucre. Most of all, she was worried for Sousuke. She must use her wits and find some way she could be of service to him.
She smiled. She knew just the thing.
************************************************************
End of part 2.
No. I thought of something better. NO HELLFIRE BOOKMARK THIS TIME... 