“Missy, you’d better take care when keeping company with one of Mibu’s wolves,” Minato’s dirty eyeglasses gleamed in the harsh fluorescent light of the armory as he stared up at the wolf in question. “This one in particular, “he warned as shot Saitoh a dirty look for good measure, “You chain smoking, ill-tempered, armor melting pain in my arthritic old ass!”
“Moron,” Saitoh flicked the man on his mostly bald head, disrupting the carefully choreographed comb-over. “Takagi has been vaccinated for rabies, she’ll be fine.” He glanced over at the attorney with a sardonic grin, enjoying the banter almost as much as he'd enjoyed hearing her laugh.
“As for the armor,” All signs of sarcasm instantly vanished. “It served its purpose, as will the replacements that we’re here for.” He motioned for Takagi to follow him into what could only adequately be described as a large rectangular bunker with a long hallway dividing the room into two sections.
On one side were rows and rows of shelved weapons, most of them fully automatic, lining the concrete walls and steel storage racks, all locked up behind thick metal cages. The other section held the ammunition, a morbid mixture of high velocity and energy rounds of varying caliber, tasers, stunners, and personal explosive devices (PED’s) that either contained charges, nerve agents or were filled with shrapnel that would, depending on which PED you used, stun, cripple or kill their target.
“Some new side arms, I suspect will also be in order,” Saitoh took his larger gun out of the holster and extended it for Minato to inspect. It was burnt, cracked, the LED display flickering occasionally, “Preferably something that can punch through poly-kevlar body armor.”
“That’s military issue only.” Minato argued as he took the weapon and began fussing over it, as a mother might over a child with a skinned knee.
“Not anymore,” Saitoh said grimly, glancing over at Takagi. She’d shot a man wearing the armor they were discussing, “Takagi-san can also verify this. It’s on the streets and will soon saturate the black market.”
He frowned, thinking of how much more dangerous it was going to be for his officers. “We’re going to have to upgrade, and soon if we wish to maintain any sort of advantage over these assholes.”
“You’re already outgunned, Captain,” Minato said peevishly as he walked over to the table and set the damaged gun down. “All the weaponry and training in the world can’t compete against meta-amphetamines. Sooner or later you’ll be coming in here for a shot of this, and an injection of that.”
“The hell I will,” Saitoh sneered, his expression becoming dangerous. This was a long-standing argument, one that both men vehemently disagreed on.
“The day that drugs become standard issue for our officers…”
“Is coming sooner than you think, Hajime,” Minato said almost regretfully as he opened a trunk and took out what appeared to be a large gun metal grey flak jacket and examined it carefully, then tossed it to Saitoh, who caught it with one hand. “Until then, hopefully, this will keep your stubborn ass alive for a few more days. I'd hate not having someone to argue with."
"He took out a smaller jacket and offered it to Takagi. “Don’t blame me if the size is wrong. He called in your measurements and the specs for your armor. Top of the line, from top to bottom. You sure she needs this?"
“It will fit,” Saitoh muttered as he pulled unbuckled his gun holster, set it on a shelf and then slid off his shoulder holster. He knew exactly what her measurements were, knew them as well as he knew his own body.
Saitoh looked over at Takagi and something akin to sorrow registered in his gaze. Never again would she be able to casually dress, without thought to form and function. She was delicate and slender, her body suited to wearing an elegant kimono rather than military grade body armor. And while Saitoh was not a man who bleated and bitched about how unfair life was, in this instant and in regards to this woman, a part of him wished that the world they lived was a more peaceable one.
"I think Takagi-san will agree that this is an unfortunate necessity," was all he could manage. (It will keep her alive) Hell, at this point, if he could convince the women to go about town wearing a tank, he'd go for it, if it would keep her safe from harm.
"Beats getting blown in half by an energy round, don't you think?" Minato groused.
"Aa," Saitoh nodded, and took off badge, hand restraints, and other items an officer was wont to carry on their person.
“Well, don’t just stand there looking at me. Strip and get that armor on.” Minato groused.
“What?” Saitoh, who had already unbuttoned his shirt and was in the process of shrugging out of it, grimacing as the medi-bands pulled at his half healed skin, looked over at the armory master as if he man had gone off the subterranean deep end.
And then it hit him. He realized that Minato had not been addressing him, but rather the woman he’d brought with him.
Oh. Shit.
Saitoh stopped taking of his shirt and for a moment, seemed at a complete loss as to how best proceed.
For an officer, changing armor was commonplace, regardless of gender. He’d stripped in front of Watanabe and his other female officers more times than he could count and had until this moment, thought nothing of it.
(She’s not an officer, fuckwit…) he glanced around the armory, wondering if there was a place she could change privately. An idea formed, one that he tenaciously latched onto.
“Perhaps Takagi-san can use your office to change?” He looked over at the woman, his expression apologetic.
no subject
“Moron,” Saitoh flicked the man on his mostly bald head, disrupting the carefully choreographed comb-over. “Takagi has been vaccinated for rabies, she’ll be fine.” He glanced over at the attorney with a sardonic grin, enjoying the banter almost as much as he'd enjoyed hearing her laugh.
“As for the armor,” All signs of sarcasm instantly vanished. “It served its purpose, as will the replacements that we’re here for.” He motioned for Takagi to follow him into what could only adequately be described as a large rectangular bunker with a long hallway dividing the room into two sections.
On one side were rows and rows of shelved weapons, most of them fully automatic, lining the concrete walls and steel storage racks, all locked up behind thick metal cages. The other section held the ammunition, a morbid mixture of high velocity and energy rounds of varying caliber, tasers, stunners, and personal explosive devices (PED’s) that either contained charges, nerve agents or were filled with shrapnel that would, depending on which PED you used, stun, cripple or kill their target.
“Some new side arms, I suspect will also be in order,” Saitoh took his larger gun out of the holster and extended it for Minato to inspect. It was burnt, cracked, the LED display flickering occasionally, “Preferably something that can punch through poly-kevlar body armor.”
“That’s military issue only.” Minato argued as he took the weapon and began fussing over it, as a mother might over a child with a skinned knee.
“Not anymore,” Saitoh said grimly, glancing over at Takagi. She’d shot a man wearing the armor they were discussing, “Takagi-san can also verify this. It’s on the streets and will soon saturate the black market.”
He frowned, thinking of how much more dangerous it was going to be for his officers. “We’re going to have to upgrade, and soon if we wish to maintain any sort of advantage over these assholes.”
“You’re already outgunned, Captain,” Minato said peevishly as he walked over to the table and set the damaged gun down. “All the weaponry and training in the world can’t compete against meta-amphetamines. Sooner or later you’ll be coming in here for a shot of this, and an injection of that.”
“The hell I will,” Saitoh sneered, his expression becoming dangerous. This was a long-standing argument, one that both men vehemently disagreed on.
“The day that drugs become standard issue for our officers…”
“Is coming sooner than you think, Hajime,” Minato said almost regretfully as he opened a trunk and took out what appeared to be a large gun metal grey flak jacket and examined it carefully, then tossed it to Saitoh, who caught it with one hand. “Until then, hopefully, this will keep your stubborn ass alive for a few more days. I'd hate not having someone to argue with."
"He took out a smaller jacket and offered it to Takagi. “Don’t blame me if the size is wrong. He called in your measurements and the specs for your armor. Top of the line, from top to bottom. You sure she needs this?"
“It will fit,” Saitoh muttered as he pulled unbuckled his gun holster, set it on a shelf and then slid off his shoulder holster. He knew exactly what her measurements were, knew them as well as he knew his own body.
Saitoh looked over at Takagi and something akin to sorrow registered in his gaze. Never again would she be able to casually dress, without thought to form and function. She was delicate and slender, her body suited to wearing an elegant kimono rather than military grade body armor. And while Saitoh was not a man who bleated and bitched about how unfair life was, in this instant and in regards to this woman, a part of him wished that the world they lived was a more peaceable one.
"I think Takagi-san will agree that this is an unfortunate necessity," was all he could manage. (It will keep her alive) Hell, at this point, if he could convince the women to go about town wearing a tank, he'd go for it, if it would keep her safe from harm.
"Beats getting blown in half by an energy round, don't you think?" Minato groused.
"Aa," Saitoh nodded, and took off badge, hand restraints, and other items an officer was wont to carry on their person.
“Well, don’t just stand there looking at me. Strip and get that armor on.” Minato groused.
“What?” Saitoh, who had already unbuttoned his shirt and was in the process of shrugging out of it, grimacing as the medi-bands pulled at his half healed skin, looked over at the armory master as if he man had gone off the subterranean deep end.
And then it hit him. He realized that Minato had not been addressing him, but rather the woman he’d brought with him.
Oh. Shit.
Saitoh stopped taking of his shirt and for a moment, seemed at a complete loss as to how best proceed.
For an officer, changing armor was commonplace, regardless of gender. He’d stripped in front of Watanabe and his other female officers more times than he could count and had until this moment, thought nothing of it.
(She’s not an officer, fuckwit…) he glanced around the armory, wondering if there was a place she could change privately. An idea formed, one that he tenaciously latched onto.
“Perhaps Takagi-san can use your office to change?” He looked over at the woman, his expression apologetic.