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gumi_reloaded2012-04-06 08:38 pm
tokio_takagi) wrote in gumi_reloaded2012-04-06 08:38 pm
A JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND MILES
Date: Sunday, February 5
Time: Late Afternoon
Place: New Meiji lower district, the Sunshine Cafe
Characters: Kenshin, Tokio, Saitoh
katananokokoro
The espresso cup shook, clattering against the table as an earthquake rumbled through the ground. The plastic suns affixed to the ceiling swung in the chaos and a child started crying nearby. Kenshin stilled his cup with one hand and absently looked for the source of the crying-- imagining it must be that harried looking older woman three booths down, though the seat was too high for him to tell of there was a child there.
As soon as it started, however, the earthquake stopped. 4.5 maybe. Not bad. His phone buzzed and he flipped it open, light sliding across the magenta surface. Another delivery lined up. That made it ten today, to various parts of the lower district, all due before twelve, maybe one considering everyone would be on their lunch break. It was only nine now. He had plenty of time. He confirmed his availibilty and once the message sent, he was moved back to his contact list.
There were two people on it, work and Shishou.
Kenshin took a sip of espresso, staring Shishou's number. He hadn't contacted him in four years. No point in starting now. He flipped the phone shut and stared outside, watching workers clear shards of glittering glass off a street where a store front window had shattered.
tokio_takagi
As soon as she felt the motion, Tokio held her breath, the cup of green tea that she was holding frozen halfway between the table top and her lips. Without thinking she slammed the drink to the table’s smooth, but sticky surface, sloshing lukewarm tea over her fingers and wrist. Drat. At least she hadn’t worn a long-sleeved blouse today, or she’d be sporting tea-colored cuffs all day at the office. Good thing she wasn’t due in court today, either.
How could she have been more careful with her drink when she didn’t know whether this one would keep escalating or not? The shaking reached its peak, rattling everything in ‘New Meiji’s Best Greasy Spoon’ as Tokio referred to the place, but not sending anything crashing to the floor. This one was a small one . It had to be less than 5.0. And anything under 5.0 was not a big quake, and really nothing to worry about unless it was a very shallow quake and you were in a place that had been built on fill dirt. In that case, there may have been a cracked window, or a glass or two that had jumped to the floor.
As the motion slowed and then came to an abrupt halt, she thought of the last 6.9 that she’d experienced, shuddering at the memory of the intensity of that one, and remembering how the sandy ground below the building she was in caused the sensation of a gentle rocking for minutes after the actual shaking stopped.
Glancing out the window, she noticed with surprise that a window in a building across the street had shattered. Must have been old glass with some hairline cracks in it for that to happen, or maybe the soil across the street under that building was sand, which was always unstable in a quake, especially when it was wet. Soil liquefaction…that though made Tokio shudder.
Lost in her thoughts she was vaguely aware of a crying child. Poor thing. There weren’t too many people in here this morning. The before work breakfast rush was over and it was too early for lunch. Tokio rose in her booth. Where was that waitress. She’d need some extra napkins to mop up the tea that now covered the table in front of her and dripped off her fingers.
katananokokoro
Ah, it seems it wasn't a middle aged woman at all, but a young woman who he had been staring at. Relatively young anyway. 27, 28. Some kind of professional by the looks of her clothes and now a tea stained professional. He watched the tea drip from her fingertips for a moment (like sheathes of skin, seared off by fire).
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them there was tea, not blood, puddled on the floor underneath her booth. He then realized with a guilty start what she must be after.
"Ah, excuse me," he said, sliding out of his own booth and straightening his apron. He was technically off shift but he couldn't look away from a lady in need.
"It seems you've had some trouble. I'm sorry about that." He bowed slightly. "Would you like to clean up?" The Sunshine Cafe didn't have a public restroom and though he technically wasn't allowed to offer but what harm could it do?
tokio_takagi
The spilled tea had reached the edge of the table and now trickled over the side, making a small puddle on the floor. What Tokio wouldn’t have given for a stack of napkins. She could have prevented most of this mess, if only she’d asked for a couple of extras when she placed her order. She usually needed more than one napkin. It wasn’t as though she was that messy, but at eateries things just seem to happen. Like today.
Giving a start, she looked up and around the diner . Someone was staring at her. She could feel it .
A red-haired guy with an apron was sliding out from a nearby booth. Hm. He looked like an employee, although she’d not seen him there before, and she considered herself a ‘regular’ at this joint. He must be new.
"Would you like to clean up?"
“Oh, thank you, but all I need is a few napkins to wipe my hands and a rag to catch the drips on the table and mop this puddle,” she replied with a friendly smile.
katananokokoro
"Oh never mind cleaning up. That's my job," Kenshin said with a smile. He was glad to know she was a conscientious customer at least. Those were few and far between. However, if she didn't wish to go the back room...
"Please, wait here." Then, quickly, he ducked into the back and got a moist towelette and a soft clean towel for her hands before coming back out and flipping the towel over his wrist until she needed it, while handing out the packet.
"We're getting quite a lot of earthquakes these days, aren't we?" he offered, small talk always helped calmed the nerves. (Though whose were really on edge here?)
"I can't help but be a little shaken up." It was a bad joke but it wasn't as if he knew any good ones. Though there was one about a penguin that Shishou had made him promise never to say again. Whether because it was so bad or so good, Kenshin had never been able to tell.
tokio_takagi
"Oh never mind cleaning up. That's my job..."
So he did work here. The name tag she just noticed pinned to his shirt even confirmed it. Otherwise, there was no way that he'd offer to clean-up for her. Guys just never did that sort of thing...unless they got paid for it. But the way he smiled before he raced way made Tokio want to believe, that employee or not, he still would have helped her.
She was usually the skeptical type, needing more than one piece of evidence before deciding what to believe.
He was back in a flash. "Thank you Ken," she replied as she took the packet he offered and ripped it open with a little twisting motion.
"It certainly does seem like we are getting more than our fair share of them lately." There was no way she could stifle the light laugh that erupted in response to his pun.
"I do believe that even the tea in my cup was shaken this time." It was obvious to Tokio that the red-haired man was making pleasant small talk. No doubt to distract her mind from her klutzy behavior. Honestly, she shouldn't have slammed that cup down on the table, just because of a little earth shaking.
"Have you worked here long?" Well, maybe asking him that was prying, but she was sure that he would recognize it as her her feeble attempt to continue their conversation.
She then wadded up the little moist towlette and stuffed it back in its packet.
katananokokoro
"Aa, long enough," Kenshin said absently, taken aback by the way she said his name. He wondered-- but then remembered. The name tag. Such a strange custom though many businesses of this kind seemed to frequent them. It was so easy to fake a name, to pick any identity out of a hat and no one looked close enough. (Easy enough when you have no official identity to begin with.) He noticed the woman was done with the towelette and took the trash from her, offering the towel in its place with a little bow.
"The earth is restless, she is." A man passing by outside caught his attention for a brief moment. Long enough for Kenshin to note that he was rough in appearance if not person. "Do you come here often?"
Time: Late Afternoon
Place: New Meiji lower district, the Sunshine Cafe
Characters: Kenshin, Tokio, Saitoh
katananokokoroThe espresso cup shook, clattering against the table as an earthquake rumbled through the ground. The plastic suns affixed to the ceiling swung in the chaos and a child started crying nearby. Kenshin stilled his cup with one hand and absently looked for the source of the crying-- imagining it must be that harried looking older woman three booths down, though the seat was too high for him to tell of there was a child there.
As soon as it started, however, the earthquake stopped. 4.5 maybe. Not bad. His phone buzzed and he flipped it open, light sliding across the magenta surface. Another delivery lined up. That made it ten today, to various parts of the lower district, all due before twelve, maybe one considering everyone would be on their lunch break. It was only nine now. He had plenty of time. He confirmed his availibilty and once the message sent, he was moved back to his contact list.
There were two people on it, work and Shishou.
Kenshin took a sip of espresso, staring Shishou's number. He hadn't contacted him in four years. No point in starting now. He flipped the phone shut and stared outside, watching workers clear shards of glittering glass off a street where a store front window had shattered.
tokio_takagiAs soon as she felt the motion, Tokio held her breath, the cup of green tea that she was holding frozen halfway between the table top and her lips. Without thinking she slammed the drink to the table’s smooth, but sticky surface, sloshing lukewarm tea over her fingers and wrist. Drat. At least she hadn’t worn a long-sleeved blouse today, or she’d be sporting tea-colored cuffs all day at the office. Good thing she wasn’t due in court today, either.
How could she have been more careful with her drink when she didn’t know whether this one would keep escalating or not? The shaking reached its peak, rattling everything in ‘New Meiji’s Best Greasy Spoon’ as Tokio referred to the place, but not sending anything crashing to the floor. This one was a small one . It had to be less than 5.0. And anything under 5.0 was not a big quake, and really nothing to worry about unless it was a very shallow quake and you were in a place that had been built on fill dirt. In that case, there may have been a cracked window, or a glass or two that had jumped to the floor.
As the motion slowed and then came to an abrupt halt, she thought of the last 6.9 that she’d experienced, shuddering at the memory of the intensity of that one, and remembering how the sandy ground below the building she was in caused the sensation of a gentle rocking for minutes after the actual shaking stopped.
Glancing out the window, she noticed with surprise that a window in a building across the street had shattered. Must have been old glass with some hairline cracks in it for that to happen, or maybe the soil across the street under that building was sand, which was always unstable in a quake, especially when it was wet. Soil liquefaction…that though made Tokio shudder.
Lost in her thoughts she was vaguely aware of a crying child. Poor thing. There weren’t too many people in here this morning. The before work breakfast rush was over and it was too early for lunch. Tokio rose in her booth. Where was that waitress. She’d need some extra napkins to mop up the tea that now covered the table in front of her and dripped off her fingers.
katananokokoro Ah, it seems it wasn't a middle aged woman at all, but a young woman who he had been staring at. Relatively young anyway. 27, 28. Some kind of professional by the looks of her clothes and now a tea stained professional. He watched the tea drip from her fingertips for a moment (like sheathes of skin, seared off by fire).
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them there was tea, not blood, puddled on the floor underneath her booth. He then realized with a guilty start what she must be after.
"Ah, excuse me," he said, sliding out of his own booth and straightening his apron. He was technically off shift but he couldn't look away from a lady in need.
"It seems you've had some trouble. I'm sorry about that." He bowed slightly. "Would you like to clean up?" The Sunshine Cafe didn't have a public restroom and though he technically wasn't allowed to offer but what harm could it do?
tokio_takagi The spilled tea had reached the edge of the table and now trickled over the side, making a small puddle on the floor. What Tokio wouldn’t have given for a stack of napkins. She could have prevented most of this mess, if only she’d asked for a couple of extras when she placed her order. She usually needed more than one napkin. It wasn’t as though she was that messy, but at eateries things just seem to happen. Like today.
Giving a start, she looked up and around the diner . Someone was staring at her. She could feel it .
A red-haired guy with an apron was sliding out from a nearby booth. Hm. He looked like an employee, although she’d not seen him there before, and she considered herself a ‘regular’ at this joint. He must be new.
"Would you like to clean up?"
“Oh, thank you, but all I need is a few napkins to wipe my hands and a rag to catch the drips on the table and mop this puddle,” she replied with a friendly smile.
katananokokoro"Oh never mind cleaning up. That's my job," Kenshin said with a smile. He was glad to know she was a conscientious customer at least. Those were few and far between. However, if she didn't wish to go the back room...
"Please, wait here." Then, quickly, he ducked into the back and got a moist towelette and a soft clean towel for her hands before coming back out and flipping the towel over his wrist until she needed it, while handing out the packet.
"We're getting quite a lot of earthquakes these days, aren't we?" he offered, small talk always helped calmed the nerves. (Though whose were really on edge here?)
"I can't help but be a little shaken up." It was a bad joke but it wasn't as if he knew any good ones. Though there was one about a penguin that Shishou had made him promise never to say again. Whether because it was so bad or so good, Kenshin had never been able to tell.
tokio_takagi "Oh never mind cleaning up. That's my job..."
So he did work here. The name tag she just noticed pinned to his shirt even confirmed it. Otherwise, there was no way that he'd offer to clean-up for her. Guys just never did that sort of thing...unless they got paid for it. But the way he smiled before he raced way made Tokio want to believe, that employee or not, he still would have helped her.
She was usually the skeptical type, needing more than one piece of evidence before deciding what to believe.
He was back in a flash. "Thank you Ken," she replied as she took the packet he offered and ripped it open with a little twisting motion.
"It certainly does seem like we are getting more than our fair share of them lately." There was no way she could stifle the light laugh that erupted in response to his pun.
"I do believe that even the tea in my cup was shaken this time." It was obvious to Tokio that the red-haired man was making pleasant small talk. No doubt to distract her mind from her klutzy behavior. Honestly, she shouldn't have slammed that cup down on the table, just because of a little earth shaking.
"Have you worked here long?" Well, maybe asking him that was prying, but she was sure that he would recognize it as her her feeble attempt to continue their conversation.
She then wadded up the little moist towlette and stuffed it back in its packet.
katananokokoro
"Aa, long enough," Kenshin said absently, taken aback by the way she said his name. He wondered-- but then remembered. The name tag. Such a strange custom though many businesses of this kind seemed to frequent them. It was so easy to fake a name, to pick any identity out of a hat and no one looked close enough. (Easy enough when you have no official identity to begin with.) He noticed the woman was done with the towelette and took the trash from her, offering the towel in its place with a little bow.
"The earth is restless, she is." A man passing by outside caught his attention for a brief moment. Long enough for Kenshin to note that he was rough in appearance if not person. "Do you come here often?"
Part 1
The black hairs on the back of Saitoh’s neck bristled at the sudden change in the waiter’s tone of voice and body language. An invisible, yet almost palpable note of menace and anger emerged from the slender man who was glaring at him, and then at the suspect that Saitoh had been trailing for nearly five months.
The man was sweating, a tiny bead of sweaty film forming on his upper lip and nose as he started to rise.
(Yes, get the hell out of here…) Saitoh thought, wondering sourly if his powers of mental suggestion might work better on this prick than on Takagi, who was sitting as still as a stone. (We’ll pick you up later, when there are not innocent people nearby).
“Sit down,”
Saitoh sighed and silently turned over his tablet. This time when he typed, no sound came from his rapidly moving fingers.
TXT MSG: ENCRYPTED
START MSG: HSAITOH to KWATANABE; SQD3
BACKUP REQUESTED. HAUL YOUR ASSES.
END TXT MSG:
Takagi wasn’t armed. At all. Saitoh glanced again quickly, noting with displeasure that there was no hint of body armor beneath her delicately tailored blouse. (Damn fool….she’s not going to last a week if she keeps this up) One of the first rules he hammered into the men and women who joined Squadron 3 was to never leave home without a side arm, a spare and body armor. While annualized attrition rates due to homicide within the police force was at an all-time low (down to 28% from 43% five years before) too many good people were lost because of carelessness.
Saitoh knew all about carelessness. He’d been careless once and that was enough to last several lifetimes.
Saitoh exhaled quietly, pushing down thoughts that would only hinder him at this moment, then twisted slightly, slowly in his seat, so he was in the best possible position to move and move quickly away from the bench. He moved his hand away from the tablet and slid it off the table. Never taking his eyes off of Salamander and “KEN”, still unsure of where the greater menace lay, he reached into his jacket, and initiated the start sequence on his other gun. This time, there was no laser light signal.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
Saitoh’s eyes, which were definitely on the narrow and slightly beady side of the optical spectrum went wide at the most unlikely of responses. “Saitou Hajime. New Meiji PD. We have you surrounded and we know about Rat.”
(Who the fuck are you?) This was one of many questions that Saitoh intended to ask the Sunshine Diner’s newest employee. Unfortunately, this question would have to wait.
(There!) Saitoh exhaled sharply when Salamander’s arms began to move (Too Fast. He’s a user!) and move quickly towards what he knew were going to be weapons. He saw a holster appear (Semi-Automatics) and reached up and hit the activation switch on his body armor, then crouched, hefted up his RK-RB12 and started pressing the trigger, aiming right for the middle of his prime suspect’s head.
“Oi, what’s going on out here?” Saitoh cursed at the sound of someone pushing open the door that led to the diner’s kitchen. It was one of the busboys, a gawky kid with serious headgear who was midway through Senior High School.
“GET DOWN!” He ordered, his deep voice ringing with authority, unable to dare turning his head, as he felt a strong electromagnetic current move through the Poly-Kevlar armor, creating a faint blue-white energy field beneath his uniform. While the inactivated armor was somewhat effective a stabbing or other slow moving melee weapon, high velocity and energy rounds required something more.
The next one and a half seconds were, as usual, a blur. He felt the air displacement before he heard the whine and pop of a semi –automatic weapon being discharged, the first bullet missing “KEN’s red head by less than two inches. Saitoh returned fire a millisecond later, but with AMP a millisecond was an eternity. Salamander blurred, his body moving so fast Saitoh could barely track him. He’d tried to anticipate this, but was only human (which in this day and time was becoming a liability) and was able to compensate only enough to ensure that Salamander was shot in the upper shoulder rather than through the forehead.
Re: Part 1
The bell on the front diner door dinged the same moment that another employee ran out of the kitchen entrance. It was the cook, an old grizzled war veteran, who was armed with a 10 gauge shotgun, standard weaponry for business people in this part of town. The old man fired, not at the blur that was Salamander, but towards five men, all armed, two with military grade automatic rifles. The blast took one down, his face dissolving beneath the force of buckshot traveling at over 400 miles a second.
Saitoh shot one through the chest, and was aiming for the third, when a round from what he assumed was Salamander ricocheted against his hip, sending him slamming backwards into the booth across from where Takagi was hiding. His armour sparked, the heavy electromagnetic field absorbing enough kinetic energy not to let the bullet pass through to this body, but not nearly enough not to not hurt. Another shot and he could tell by the sound of the body impact that the diner cook had been shot through the head and was either dead, or would be in a minute as the back of his shattered skull bled out over the dingy diner floor.
One of the men with an illegal rifle, one that Saitoh doubted his armor could protect against took aim. Saitoh shouted a warning to “KEN” to get his spindly ass behind something solid and, moving as fast as he could, yanked Takagi out from where she was hiding and shoved her behind him as he emptied the rest of his chamber at the group of intruders. Another man went down, his throat torn apart by the force of the impact. Saitoh took the second he was given, reloaded, retreated quickly toward the back of the diner, trying to keep himself between those who were innocent and might be innocent and those who were most certainly were not.
Why aren’t they shooting?)
He glanced back and to his immense displeasure saw that in the fracas, that the surviving intruders had just tossed epi pens and now had AMP or something even worse coursing through their systems.