Okay, here's something that I've been struggling with a bit. I'm hoping that it's not too far over the top, given that Sosuke is a trained
military specialist and a paranoid one at that. I find myself wondering if I should go for a Mexican Standoff instead...
NOTE: I just now realized that they would be using their callsigns instead - I'll fix it later, for now I need sleep.
It is fairly well known that it is illegal to carry a weapon in Japan. In fact, public ownership of automatic and semi-automatic weapons is forbidden and getting a bolt-action hunting rifle takes a lot
of paperwork and time. So imagine my surprise when I see a teacher, when inspecting the bag of the boy in front of me,
pulls a handgun out of his bag.
Yeah, I'd say the look on my face was probably interesting to look at.
What made it worse was that he didn't even try to BS his way through it. He even told her it was loaded, for Raven's sake. Fortunately for him, the teacher
couldn't tell which end was up with a gun, so he got through alright.
I got through the check myself with no issues what so ever. Whoever that guy was, he couldn't be just some punk with a point to prove. For one
thing, guns are difficult to get a hold of, period. Even if you had connections with the Yakuza, they don't just
hand them out to kids - even they realize how irresponsible that is.
Right away, I caught up with the guy in front of me.
He noticed my presence as I settled into pace beside him.
"So, you're either insane or just plain stupid," I said.
The boy made a confused face at me. "Pardon
me?"
"That stunt you just pulled with the gun. You
honestly think that sort of thing is alright around here?"
"I'm a trained military professional," he said in a matter-of-fact
tone. I would come to realize later on that he uses this tone a lot.
"There is nothing that could go wrong."
"Are you serious!?" I said, giving him my best look of shock/horror.
Again, the confused look. "Should I
be?"
I'm not a large person - not by any stretch.
I'm a bit short for my age and I also look younger than I am. Even my build is a bit slimmer than it ought to
be. However, what I do have is compact, wiry muscles built up from constant physical activity. So it came to this boy's surprise when, despite him being a few centimeters taller than me, I grabbed him by the lapels and
hauled him around the corner of the main building and into the shrubs, where I pinned him to the wall.
"At this moment, you should be," I told him in a tone that my Father had used on
me before - the tone that promised terrible things to come if the expectations were not met. And then I heard
something.
The human ear is not as dull as some wildlife nuts like to make it out to be. Spending summers with my Grandfather taught me the use of a properly acclimated sense of hearing.
Properly acclimated, you can hear things you didn't think you could hear. Like the tinny-sounding hiss of
voices on a wireless headset.
"Hello," I murmured softly as I reached up to his ear. Sure enough, there was a tiny ear-bud radio tucked away in there. Very nice, very
sophisticated. Only a few agencies in the world could afford something like this, but I don't think this guy
belonged to any of them. Curious, I put the ear-bud into my ear.
"This is Ezekiel Darkwood," I said,
using English. "To whom am I speaking with? And no funny business - we're in the open. Don't wanna cause trouble, you
know."
There was a moment of silence. And then…
"Well, Mao, think the jig is up?"
said a male's voice in perfect English
"Let's see what he wants,
first," said a woman. She sounded saucy, but she had a no-nonsense tone.
And was that a hint of a New York accent there? "This is
Sergeant-Major Mao and I am in charge of this operation. Now you tell me who you are with."
"No one but myself," I replied
breezily. "Just think of me as a skilled civilian who's looking out
for his school-mates."
"You honestly expect me to believe
that?" came Mao's voice sharply.
"It helps that your operative here was as
obvious as a weasel on acid," I told her darkly. "However, you
can go ahead and check my credentials. My father is Commander Mathieu Darkwood, CO of USS Stethem, DDG-63, currently
forward-deployed to 7th Fleet, USN."
There was a moment of silence.
"Sergeant Webber," said Mao's
voice. "I'm sending you an image.
Tell me if it matches the person holding Sergeant Sagara."
"Understood," the Sergeant
replied. There's another pregnant silence and then a whistle from the Sergeant. "Sergeant-Major, we're certain that the student roster hasn't been tampered
with, right?"
"Of course, we made certain of
it."
"Well, the kid's not lying. He is who he says he is unless someone went through a lot of trouble to find a double or surgically alter someone to fit the
bill."
"Roger that, Sergeant," came a
weary sounding Mao. "Very well, Mr. Darkwood. What do you want?"
Time to play hardball. "First of all, I want to know who you are with."
"You know I can't tell anyone
that," groused Mao.
"Well then I'm afraid I'll have to
blow your agent's cover."
"Fuck it all," grumbled Mao.
"Alright! We're with a private
mercenary group called MITHRIL."
I'd heard about them. Their existence is
supposed to be hush-hush because they tend to pull off stunts that the US and its allies would rather not have anyone know about. I only know about them because I'd overheard more than a few officers discussing the matter casually with my Dad. Also, the Internet is a wonderful thing.
"Really now?" I said, my interest
piqued. However, anyone could say something like that to cover their ass, so I had to make sure. "Sergeant Sagara, I presume? You speak
English, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"Good, that makes this simpler. Got any identification that is not forged?" Sagara nodded. "Good, show me. Nice and
slow."
Sergeant Sagara may have been dumb enough to bring a gun to school, but not dumb enough to
piss with a guy with a size disadvantage that managed to disarm and pin him to a wall. Not that I was being careless -
I could tell that if I gave him so much as an inch right now he could probably tie me into a pretzel. Fortunately, he
tries nothing screwy and shows me something that looks like an ID card for a corporation… A corporation called
MITHRIL.
I nodded my head in satisfaction and Sosuke put the card away. "I see. Now, what does MITHRIL want with my
school?"
Mao was silent for a second, as though deliberating on what to tell me.
"We have a special interest in one of the
students there," she finally said. "She has critical
intelligence that others would like to get their hands on; people that would use this information against countries United States and Japan, simply sell it to
the highest bidder."
It made sense. There were times some poor sap
somehow came into contact with the wrong sort of information and learned too much for their own good. And sometimes
that information was the sort that made people disappear quietly in the middle of the night.
"Okay then.
I'll tell you guys what - since I know your group tends towards the chaotic-good side of things, I'll help your guy out in blending
in. Trust me, he needs the help."
"Why should we trust you, Mr.
Darkwood?" said Mao, cool and uncompromising. "And for that
matter what do you even know of our activities?"
"For your first question: why
not? Your agent's cover is still intact. Secondly, when you're the son
of a Commanding Officer in the USN you tend to hear things. Besides, you guys can't keep yourselves entirely out of
the news - mysterious incidents occurring in hot zones and all."
"Very well then," said Mao,
sounding at least a little bit satisfied with that response. "Assist
Sergeant Sagara any way you can."
"Alright.
I'm giving him back his earpiece now."
I removed the ear-bud radio and offered it to Sergeant Sagara, who took it gently with a
slightly confused look on his face as fitted it back into his ear.
"Sergeant-Major?" asked
Sagara. I heard a tinny sound once more, this time I could just barely discern Mao's voice. "Understood, Sergeant-Major."
"Okay, Sergeant. First thing: weapons. Show me what you got."
It began with the basics. A combat knife, the gun
I saw earlier, and then a compact submachine gun, grenades, C-4, remote detonators, and more. This guy was ready to
wage an insurgency! And I'll have to admit that I was impressed with how he had it all packed away. I'd have to ask him if he'd show me sometime - it'd even impress Grandpa Bear.
"You know, Sergeant," I said,
"this is beautiful, peace-and-harmony-loving Japan. Not Afghanistan or the
Chinese DMZ. We're ditching all this stuff."
"But what about-"
"Stop.
First of all, most of the punks that are common around here will be discouraged well enough by a solid knock-out or two. Show the dogs who the Alpha is and they'll back down. Second, your friends are keeping
watch outside, right? They're your first line of defense from hostile enemy agents - not you. I will caveat a handgun, but it is to remain in a bolt-hole you can easily get at. Third,
don't get paranoid. Anyone pulling funny business here sticks out like a sore thumb. Relax and try to enjoy being a student. How old are you anyways?"
"I am sixteen years old."
"Really now?
How the hell did you… Never mind, we'll discuss your life later. Now then, we are going to go out there and
be normal high school students."
"You hardly seem normal
yourself."
"Heh. Normalcy is such a relative thing, Sagara-san. Let's go
before we're late."
military specialist and a paranoid one at that. I find myself wondering if I should go for a Mexican Standoff instead...
NOTE: I just now realized that they would be using their callsigns instead - I'll fix it later, for now I need sleep.
It is fairly well known that it is illegal to carry a weapon in Japan. In fact, public ownership of automatic and semi-automatic weapons is forbidden and getting a bolt-action hunting rifle takes a lot
of paperwork and time. So imagine my surprise when I see a teacher, when inspecting the bag of the boy in front of me,
pulls a handgun out of his bag.
Yeah, I'd say the look on my face was probably interesting to look at.
What made it worse was that he didn't even try to BS his way through it. He even told her it was loaded, for Raven's sake. Fortunately for him, the teacher
couldn't tell which end was up with a gun, so he got through alright.
I got through the check myself with no issues what so ever. Whoever that guy was, he couldn't be just some punk with a point to prove. For one
thing, guns are difficult to get a hold of, period. Even if you had connections with the Yakuza, they don't just
hand them out to kids - even they realize how irresponsible that is.
Right away, I caught up with the guy in front of me.
He noticed my presence as I settled into pace beside him.
"So, you're either insane or just plain stupid," I said.
The boy made a confused face at me. "Pardon
me?"
"That stunt you just pulled with the gun. You
honestly think that sort of thing is alright around here?"
"I'm a trained military professional," he said in a matter-of-fact
tone. I would come to realize later on that he uses this tone a lot.
"There is nothing that could go wrong."
"Are you serious!?" I said, giving him my best look of shock/horror.
Again, the confused look. "Should I
be?"
I'm not a large person - not by any stretch.
I'm a bit short for my age and I also look younger than I am. Even my build is a bit slimmer than it ought to
be. However, what I do have is compact, wiry muscles built up from constant physical activity. So it came to this boy's surprise when, despite him being a few centimeters taller than me, I grabbed him by the lapels and
hauled him around the corner of the main building and into the shrubs, where I pinned him to the wall.
"At this moment, you should be," I told him in a tone that my Father had used on
me before - the tone that promised terrible things to come if the expectations were not met. And then I heard
something.
The human ear is not as dull as some wildlife nuts like to make it out to be. Spending summers with my Grandfather taught me the use of a properly acclimated sense of hearing.
Properly acclimated, you can hear things you didn't think you could hear. Like the tinny-sounding hiss of
voices on a wireless headset.
"Hello," I murmured softly as I reached up to his ear. Sure enough, there was a tiny ear-bud radio tucked away in there. Very nice, very
sophisticated. Only a few agencies in the world could afford something like this, but I don't think this guy
belonged to any of them. Curious, I put the ear-bud into my ear.
"This is Ezekiel Darkwood," I said,
using English. "To whom am I speaking with? And no funny business - we're in the open. Don't wanna cause trouble, you
know."
There was a moment of silence. And then…
"Well, Mao, think the jig is up?"
said a male's voice in perfect English
"Let's see what he wants,
first," said a woman. She sounded saucy, but she had a no-nonsense tone.
And was that a hint of a New York accent there? "This is
Sergeant-Major Mao and I am in charge of this operation. Now you tell me who you are with."
"No one but myself," I replied
breezily. "Just think of me as a skilled civilian who's looking out
for his school-mates."
"You honestly expect me to believe
that?" came Mao's voice sharply.
"It helps that your operative here was as
obvious as a weasel on acid," I told her darkly. "However, you
can go ahead and check my credentials. My father is Commander Mathieu Darkwood, CO of USS Stethem, DDG-63, currently
forward-deployed to 7th Fleet, USN."
There was a moment of silence.
"Sergeant Webber," said Mao's
voice. "I'm sending you an image.
Tell me if it matches the person holding Sergeant Sagara."
"Understood," the Sergeant
replied. There's another pregnant silence and then a whistle from the Sergeant. "Sergeant-Major, we're certain that the student roster hasn't been tampered
with, right?"
"Of course, we made certain of
it."
"Well, the kid's not lying. He is who he says he is unless someone went through a lot of trouble to find a double or surgically alter someone to fit the
bill."
"Roger that, Sergeant," came a
weary sounding Mao. "Very well, Mr. Darkwood. What do you want?"
Time to play hardball. "First of all, I want to know who you are with."
"You know I can't tell anyone
that," groused Mao.
"Well then I'm afraid I'll have to
blow your agent's cover."
"Fuck it all," grumbled Mao.
"Alright! We're with a private
mercenary group called MITHRIL."
I'd heard about them. Their existence is
supposed to be hush-hush because they tend to pull off stunts that the US and its allies would rather not have anyone know about. I only know about them because I'd overheard more than a few officers discussing the matter casually with my Dad. Also, the Internet is a wonderful thing.
"Really now?" I said, my interest
piqued. However, anyone could say something like that to cover their ass, so I had to make sure. "Sergeant Sagara, I presume? You speak
English, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"Good, that makes this simpler. Got any identification that is not forged?" Sagara nodded. "Good, show me. Nice and
slow."
Sergeant Sagara may have been dumb enough to bring a gun to school, but not dumb enough to
piss with a guy with a size disadvantage that managed to disarm and pin him to a wall. Not that I was being careless -
I could tell that if I gave him so much as an inch right now he could probably tie me into a pretzel. Fortunately, he
tries nothing screwy and shows me something that looks like an ID card for a corporation… A corporation called
MITHRIL.
I nodded my head in satisfaction and Sosuke put the card away. "I see. Now, what does MITHRIL want with my
school?"
Mao was silent for a second, as though deliberating on what to tell me.
"We have a special interest in one of the
students there," she finally said. "She has critical
intelligence that others would like to get their hands on; people that would use this information against countries United States and Japan, simply sell it to
the highest bidder."
It made sense. There were times some poor sap
somehow came into contact with the wrong sort of information and learned too much for their own good. And sometimes
that information was the sort that made people disappear quietly in the middle of the night.
"Okay then.
I'll tell you guys what - since I know your group tends towards the chaotic-good side of things, I'll help your guy out in blending
in. Trust me, he needs the help."
"Why should we trust you, Mr.
Darkwood?" said Mao, cool and uncompromising. "And for that
matter what do you even know of our activities?"
"For your first question: why
not? Your agent's cover is still intact. Secondly, when you're the son
of a Commanding Officer in the USN you tend to hear things. Besides, you guys can't keep yourselves entirely out of
the news - mysterious incidents occurring in hot zones and all."
"Very well then," said Mao,
sounding at least a little bit satisfied with that response. "Assist
Sergeant Sagara any way you can."
"Alright.
I'm giving him back his earpiece now."
I removed the ear-bud radio and offered it to Sergeant Sagara, who took it gently with a
slightly confused look on his face as fitted it back into his ear.
"Sergeant-Major?" asked
Sagara. I heard a tinny sound once more, this time I could just barely discern Mao's voice. "Understood, Sergeant-Major."
"Okay, Sergeant. First thing: weapons. Show me what you got."
It began with the basics. A combat knife, the gun
I saw earlier, and then a compact submachine gun, grenades, C-4, remote detonators, and more. This guy was ready to
wage an insurgency! And I'll have to admit that I was impressed with how he had it all packed away. I'd have to ask him if he'd show me sometime - it'd even impress Grandpa Bear.
"You know, Sergeant," I said,
"this is beautiful, peace-and-harmony-loving Japan. Not Afghanistan or the
Chinese DMZ. We're ditching all this stuff."
"But what about-"
"Stop.
First of all, most of the punks that are common around here will be discouraged well enough by a solid knock-out or two. Show the dogs who the Alpha is and they'll back down. Second, your friends are keeping
watch outside, right? They're your first line of defense from hostile enemy agents - not you. I will caveat a handgun, but it is to remain in a bolt-hole you can easily get at. Third,
don't get paranoid. Anyone pulling funny business here sticks out like a sore thumb. Relax and try to enjoy being a student. How old are you anyways?"
"I am sixteen years old."
"Really now?
How the hell did you… Never mind, we'll discuss your life later. Now then, we are going to go out there and
be normal high school students."
"You hardly seem normal
yourself."
"Heh. Normalcy is such a relative thing, Sagara-san. Let's go
before we're late."