|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Nov 29, 2009 4:47 pm
A bustling crowd of people, an open and large circular building, a lot of planes and a high glass ceiling... Tokyo International was created to house over three hundred thousand people either arriving or departing, but as it always has been with airports, the place is always crowded, customs is always slow, and at heavy times there's barely standing room in the designated waiting areas.
All the same, security is tight, the ambient music and AR overlays are at least informative, if not a little distractingly entertaining, and somehow despite the inherent chaos of a major part of one of the world's most populated cities, there is an air of obvious order and politeness here. Only in Japan...
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 29, 2009 4:58 pm
It was quite a boon to get all-expenses-paid flight and hotel to Seattle. Takeshi-san had even assured him that transportation to needed places would be taken care of until a suitable 'rental' vehicle was 'procured'. All the same, James was not thrilled about it.
The job was wetwork, with minors in information procurement(of course). He wasn't squeamish, but the fact that so much was being provided for him, he felt like a sniper in those old books on World War One. They were given extra rations, extra rum, and good gear... But their job was one of the most frightening. Sitting alone for days on end staring down the barrel of a rifle, knowing that if he was ever spotted he'd be slowly tortured to death... The very Sword of Damocles was present in James' mind as he reached the airport.
"Ah, we do have a reserved ticket for you, Saijin-sama." said the receptionist, a perky young girl with an almost genuine smile and blonde tips on her dark hair. Evidently, James' fake SIN checked out yet again. "Flight 2407 to Seattle, Washington, UCAS. The plane will be departing in an hour and a half from Terminal 5. Thank you for flying Air Tokyo." She smiled and transferred the data to James' commlink. First class, aisle seat, and plenty of time for customs.
James smiled and bowed slightly before retrieving his luggage: A long, thin wood case that held his daisho, a small plassteel crate holding his armour, and a daybag on his back with spare clothes and his armour clothing. Donning his AR-enabled slim half-frame sunglasses, he made his way down the airport to the customs section.
James informed security of exactly the contents of the three containers, and each was searched and examined according to protocol. Because his katana and armour were pieces of expensive and dangerous equipment, he was required to show valid(or in this case 'valid') licenses for them, but was also given the utmost assurance that they would be kept safe. He trusted them, their jobs and his cover relied on it. After that, he was personally searched for contraband, including chemsniffed. All standard procedure, no special treatment or undue attention to detail. Smooth as silk.
Once aboard the plane, James slipped into a reverie of music. The time in Seattle was quite different from Neo-Tokyo, so he opted to take a nap to help counter-balance jetlag. In went his sound link earbuds, and he turned on a quiet and peaceful instrumental tune, hearkening back to early Japanese music, with simple tones and tranquil feelings.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 02, 2009 9:42 pm
I had always had a taste for music, and sound in general. But this sound? This sound, I hated. The sound of crowded places, the sound of shopping malls, the sound of a convention, any sound indicative of a large group of people with nothing better to do than talk. But, then again, where would the world be without talk? Probably somewhere different, and I am quite happy with the world the way it is, thank you very much. So, if I hate the sound of people so much, why am I at an airport, you ask? A group of bigwigs in Seattle wanted a Martial Arts demonstration, a short lecture on self-defense, and for me to test the skills of some of their professional bodyguards. Personally, I think they just want to watch me fight their hired goons, and bet on the results. But they offered to pay well, so here I was...
I walked up to the reception desk, where I was greeted by an overly perky receptionist with a stupid dye job, who double-checked my reservation and directed me to my flight, which, apparently, was leaving in ten minutes. I hustled over to my gate, checked my luggage in with the appropriate minions, and boarded the plane. As I was walking down the aisle, I found myself limited in seat choice, seeing as there was only one seat left, a window seat, next to this one semi-goth looking dude with a huge tattoo that seemed to cover his whole body, from what was visible, to what wasn't. Well, maybe it IS a bit unfair to call him semi-goth. After all, his skin wasn't pale enough, and he didn't have enough piercings. Actually, on second thought, he doesn't really look like a goth at all. Oh well, moving on.
I sat down in the single available seat, and promptly fell asleep.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2009 11:45 pm
I woke when a piercing scream rent the air. God, those types of screams give me a headache every time I hear them. Why did there have to be people screaming NOW, when I was having such a nice nap? I stood up and turned around to face the direction of the scream, about to berate the screamer for being such an annoying jerk, but my turn was arrested by a ceramic knife, held about a quarter of an inch from my right eye. I said: "Well, this is an interesting surprise, care to explain it to me? And here I was worried this flight might be boring." "Shut up and sit back down, NOW." Said the person whom, in a brilliant flash of deductive reasoning, I had deduced was a hijacker of some sort.
So, I slowly sat back down, taking care to mark the positions of each visible hijacker. There appeared to be four, the one with the ceramic knife who had told me to sit down (And who had a horribly ugly battered hat with the old Canadian Flag on it), two with plastic pistols, which I figured were likely gas or compressed air propelled, with these idiotic matching suits, much resembling some sort of weird cross between western and eastern culture, the outfits being composed of Penny Loafers, Slacks, a spandex muscle tank-top, and a Haori, with one trimmed in a painfully bright pink, and the other in an equally bright green. I figured they would have been shoo-ins as seeded competitors at your average clown competition. And what fashion statement will goon number four be making, I wondered as I swept my eyes across the last goon.
Wonder of wonders, this goon appeared to look halfway competent. He had apparently managed to smuggle two separate plastic pistols, and four separate ceramic knives onto the plane. He had each pistol in an underarm holster, and two knives were strapped to his forearms, whereas the other two were held in his hands. He was wearing what appeared to be standard casual clothes, and even had a Ulysses jacket overtop.
I decided to wait, and watch things develop for a bit.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2009 12:48 am
Commotion.
James had been Assensing for the past little while, not projecting, just... playing chicken with himself. The air so high above the world was a mana ebb. It wasn't as bad as space, or even a sub-orbital, but Awakened were cautioned against doing anything magical on the plane. Even so, with the amount of emotion, specifically fear, being generated, mana was flowing. Very slowly, very calmly, the half-Japanese man removed his earbuds, a whispered command sent to his comm. "Disable music." It was loud enough for the closest hijacker to hear, and this young girl beside him, but not much louder.
The Astral reeked of fear, he could taste it, but he also saw it generated from the man holding the knife. More than simple nerves... He stopped Assensing, and slowly turned his head to look at the man with the weapon. "You don't want to do this." It wasn't a suggestion, it wasn't negotiation, it was fact. Plain and simple fact, and he stated it as such, his body language neutral, his tone calm. "Something is holding you back, making you fear. What?"
The man with the knife didn't like that. No, he thought he was handling himself quite well. He was psyched, jazzed, and... Well, a little high. But he was in control! "Shut up!" he said harshly, moving the knife from the girl to right under Jason's chin, barely touching flesh.
Jason's look stayed placid. Not cowed, not spirited, placid. Images, visions, flashed in front of him. He saw the face behind the mask holding the knife, practising with it. Another flash, him shooting up. A drug? Yet another flash, a cut across the forearm, ragged, deep. Self-mutilation... Something so profoundly ritualistic about it...
The man was under the influence. Probably Kamikaze. That wasn't the first time he'd cut, either, he could tell from the scars. Still, it seemed so... desperate. Emotions surrounded him, a lot of fear, a lot of pain. "So where are we headed now?" he asked, as casual as asking the time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2009 1:43 am
Well, these hijackers were already boring me. I could see that three of them would be in trouble trying to fight their way out of a wet paper bag, and the last probably would not be much of a challenge any. But I do have to admit, I was impressed by the demi-not really-almost-goth guy sitting next to me. Not only does he seem to have very steady nerves, but he also seems to be quite perceptive, nothing things that would be beyond the pale for myself. So, I turned up my music, closed my eyes, and tried to go back to sleep.
Apparently, that upset the goon who was still standing over me and he whom I shall henceforth call Dnrag, the bearer of indecision. So anyway, the goon still near took his knife away from Dnrag's neck, and started waving it in my face and shouting about how he was in control and how I couldn't do anything, such as going to sleep, without his permission. I figured, I need the sleep, and I like my music, so I asked his permission to go to sleep. For some reason, that only seemed to make him angrier. I swear, he seemed to be almost frothing at the mouth. Anyways, he was really mad, and raising his knife to cut me, so I did my best to subtly prepare myself to kill him before he could harm me, when suddenly the semi-competent looking goon yelled out an order to stop. What happened then quite surprised me.
The goon immediately turned white as a sheet, mumbled an apology to me, and backed off, lowering his knife and taking two full steps back down the aisle. I, with yet another stunning flash of intuition, (I know, I am amazing, aren't I?) deduced that the semi-competent looking one was the leader. Figuring that he could provide me with some entertainment, I asked him: "What exactly is your purpose for hijacking the plane?" But he just glared at me, then told me to go to sleep. Now naturally, being the obliging person that I am, now that I had been TOLD to go to sleep, there was no way in hell it would happen.
So, I closed my eyes, pretended to fall asleep, focused on my ultrasound abilities, and listened very carefully.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2009 2:31 am
Just as he thought, the man in the back had the others very firmly in reign... This could be interesting. All the same, James kept calm for a long moment, quietly slipping on a pair of simple dress gloves. Why? Well, incriminating fingerprints being what they are... He didn't want trouble. After a deep centering breath, James was ready.
Suddenly, the Bushi doubled over, clutching at his stomach and making retching sounds and coughing. Something was wrong, something serious. Several of the nearby passengers moved away as much as they could from disgust, and one brave soul of a clown moved in to investigate, pistol at the ready.
It was a split second. That smallest of moments of perception, where time seems to suddenly take a short break. That was all he needed. In that instant of stillness, the man was on his feet, one hand on the clown's weapon, the other arm around his neck. Surprise kicked in, and the gun switched hands easily, suddenly finding itself pressed against the clown's kidney. The clown didn't struggle, and the passenger didn't haul him. "Now, let's try and de-escalate the situation a little, shall we?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2009 3:12 am
I stood up, yawned, stretched, put on my coat, and said: "Well, isn't this an interesting situation we have here.....Ready to explain exactly what you are here for?" When the semi-competent goon just glared at me again, I started walking towards the unsubdued clown, who shot me. Right in the heart. What happened next, you ask? Well, obviously, I died.
There was a moment of stunned silence, then a collective gasp as the passengers realized that I had, in point of fact, not actually died, nor even been particularly inconvenienced. I continued Walking toward the clown who, in a frenzied panic, managed to fire two more shots into my chest. I looked down, said: "God, that is going to hurt like hell tomorrow" and then took the last step to get near the clown, and knocked the clown out with one strike to the neck. I then bent, picked up the pistol, pointed it at the knife-wielding goon, did my best to look like I actually knew what the hell I was doing with a pistol, and said: "Yes, I agree with Dnrag, let us try to calm things down, and settle this peacefully."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2009 3:27 am
The girl can take a hi-- "Dnrag?" That was pretty much the only thing he garnered from the situation at hand. Sure, she knew her way around a throat shout, but... Dnrag? What in the Hell is that?
He shook his head. "Any other flight... Who knows? Could have worked." he mused, then shrugged. "But on this one, well, you're outclassed. So what say you put the weapons down and we settle this with words, hm? No one needs to bleed..." He then snuck a glance at the clown on the ground. "Well, okay, no one else needs to bleed."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2009 3:48 am
After Dnrag's statement, the semi-competent goon shook his head, and said "How skillful of you, Mr. James Fujimiya. Better than was expected. You understand, we could hardly hire you for a job such as this without testing you. And no need to watch what you say, everyone in this first-class compartment is in our pay. You will see no mention of a terrorist attack, no information was leaked from this compartment to any other, and so on and so forth. However, as the test is now invalid with the intervention of that girl, I do not see a point in continuing it, do you?" after this statement, the semi-competent goon sat down in the first-class seat he had vacated when beginning his show, gestured, and was brought a class of wine by one of the flight attendants.
"Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second," I said. "This whole thing was a test to see how good Dnrag was? And if your corporation is as careful as you infer, how did I slip through the net and end up in this compartment?" The Semi-competent goon answered: "I know not how you managed to obtain a seat in this section, I shall have to have that looked into. In the meantime, I apologize for any inconvenience we have caused you, miss." I grumbled, and said "You owe me-You made me miss half my nap for a bloody test...." I go back to my seat, handing the gun off to Dnrag on the way, take my coat back off, sit down, turn up my music, and go to sleep.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2009 4:01 am
James frowned, and tossed the firearms to the man in charge. "Takeshi-san, I would strongly appreciate it if you refer to me as Red Ronin while on the job, please. Simply Ronin will do." He bowed slightly, and took his seat. "And please, if I am to be tested, I suggest letting me know from now on... You almost lost men."
This was not the first, nor would it likely be the last, time the Bushi had his skills tested simply to ensure his Takeshi-san was confident in his abilities. All the same, it irked him. One would think that if you had done your homework on a man enough to find his name through three anonymizers and a trail of bureaucracy, you would do the research necessary to find out that he's already jumped through these damn hoops. He slipped his earbuds back into his ears, and whispered "Play music." before resuming his Astral reverie.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
