'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 13

The plan is set into motion...
 

They stood together, shrouded by the shadows of a covered walkway. A fine mist-like rain hissed and strafed along the busy street, beading every surface with moisture, overhead neon reflected in the windows of passing vehicles.

Domino checked their disguises, wanting each detail to be perfect. Angel, now a mirror image of Domino, was almost unrecognisable in a pleated mini skirt, platform boots and a layering of garish, skimpy tops. Her skin was several shades darker than usual and her hair had been transformed into long, honey coloured curls. They both wore heavy make-up and nail extensions to complete their transformation into 'gyaru', followers of an old fashion trend which had recently seen a resurgence.

Borislav meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably in a sharply tailored and completely immaculate suit. His shoes, his grooming, even his wallet and pen all suggested a man of extravagant means, a man who could easily fund the voracious shopping habits of two teen-aged girls. Both young women carried a clutch of shopping bags, each from a top-line boutique, each one evidence of his unending generosity.

It was the bags which made Domino most nervous; layers of pastel underwear and glittery clothes concealed the items she would need to stage her assault on Yamada's security later that night. The bags would pass a cursory inspection but little more. They would need to be careful not to raise any suspicions.

She finished her Mild 7, inhaling a mix of the rich tobacco smoke and the overdone sickly sweetness of her perfume. The monolithic structure of Yamada's Ebisu Palace hotel loomed over her, a sinister presence both on the waterfront and in her thoughts.

“Let's go,” she said.

Roving beams of light from a patrolling police air car cut through the stale air of the hotel suite, almost inquisitive as they passed over ubiquitous furniture. Old proximity sensitive lights hummed into life as Domino led the way into the room. The release of tension she felt at having successfully smuggled her assault equipment through the lobby was reflected in her friends' expressions as they glanced around the strangely decorated room.

The clerk had taken their trio at face value and had recommended they check into one of the Ebisu's 'entertainment suites'. Yamada's hotel enjoyed two faces: that of a five star, ultimate luxury business hotel and, somewhere just below the surface, that of a 'red-light' establishment. A massive heart-shaped bed and an over-abundance of mirrors along with a vending machine for erotica left little doubt as to which section of the hotel they were in.

Angel moved slowly around the room, a discreet scanner in her hand, searching for hidden cameras or other wireless feeds. Satisfied that they were not being surveilled, she gave a nod to Domino and Borislav before moving to the window controls. A moment later, and the glass cycled from clear, through a smoky grey and into a total black tint.

The three then set about unpacking Domino's equipment, setting it out on the bed. She took a mental inventory as they went: armoured shadow suit, black monofilament katana and wakizashi, multi-purpose micro grenades, a strip of titanium kunai, twin 10mm semi-automatics with backup clips and a bullpup configuration SMG. Under most operating conditions, she would use suppressors on the firearms but they felt redundant on this run; it would get messy and loud very quickly.

She began stripping out of her gyaru disguise, unaware of the now flushed Borislav behind her as he hurried to find something to busy himself with on the opposite side of the room. As she pulled on the form-fitting shadow suit, she was aware of her shift into a heightened state of readiness, a paradox of inner calm paired with supreme combat awareness. She set about strapping her armaments in place while simultaneously, almost subconsciously, accessing her cosmetic processor. Her hair changed back to its natural blue-black, while her irises shifted to a burning red, glowing slightly in the low light.

Domino looked over to Angel, sat knock-kneed on a massive yellow beanbag. She trusted her without reservation and knew she was in safe hands when it came to Angel's part in their plan. Borislav was still an unknown quantity to her though. Although he had come this far with them, some distant fraction of her mind still wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake in involving him.

She blinked away her doubts and ran targeting interface checks, hefting first the twin pistols, then the SMG. Advanced systems in the grip of each weapon communicated with her neural processor and allowed her optics to more accurately calibrate aiming vectors, essentially improving her already deadly accuracy to near perfection. The system even allowed for multiple target tracking, which had proven useful on more than one occasion in the past.

Once she was satisfied that everything checked out, she holstered the pistols on her thighs and the SMG at the small of her back. She initiated a cybercomms channel with Angel.

[I'm ready.]

[I still don't like this, Yuki.]

[It'll be all right. We've come through worse. I know we can do this. Just trust me and stay focussed.]

[I will. And I do. Just let me know when you're in position and I'll be ready for you.]

Domino looked around for Borislav and noticed the doors to the balcony had been unlocked.

[When did he leave?]

[When you started changing in front of him.]

[Oh.]

She moved to join Borislav on the balcony and, as she reached to open the door, noticed her reflection in the darkened glass. Her body was barely visible, even in the dim light of the overheads in the suite. The shadow suit was doing its work well, leaving only her pale face visible. She paused and tugged up the retracted face guard until it covered her mouth and nose.

Borislav turned from gazing out over the bay as she stepped softly out onto the balcony.

“You are ready, I see,” he said quietly. Domino thought she detected a hint of something in his voice, resignation maybe? “I too am ready to do my part. For what it is worth.”

“It'll be worth a lot, Borislav. Assuming all goes to plan.”

“Which it will, of course!” he suddenly rumbled, a confident grin plastered on his face. Domino smiled and nodded in return.

“Okay then. Wish me luck. Time to go,” she said.

As Domino started to climb, she heard movement below and looked down to see that Angel had joined Borislav on the balcony. As her fingers and toes found one precarious hold after another, she could almost sense Angel willing her on. Domino suddenly felt a warm swell of emotions as she thought of her.

Hanging there, high above the streets, she experienced an epiphany; this wasn't just about revenge, about freedom. She had another reason to succeed, to make it through alive.

Domino's movements became even more fluid and efficient as she scaled the side of the hotel, as she became an unstoppable force, a dark flicker of inevitability. It was time to end this.

The frigid air in the crawl space cut through even the insulation of Domino's body suit as she lay waiting for the right moment to begin her assault. Above her, his penthouse floor impenetrable aside from a single door, was Yamada. Below, visible through the narrow slats of a vent, countless guards, all armed with compact SMGs and stun sticks, all wearing pseudo ninja-style kevlar suits and ovoid black helmets which covered their faces.

[Are you seeing this, Angel?]

[Yeah. Not good. There's so many of them!]

[Can you find the specs of those helmets? I need to know the optic capabilities of the visors.]

There was a moment's pause.

[Done. I'm sending the data to you –]

[Got it, thanks. Hmm. Looks like the flash bangs are no good. Broad spectrum scramblers should work just fine though.]

[But that'll kill your feed too. You'll be just as blind as they are!]

[No. I'm shielded.]

[Oh. Good. Okay then...]

[Stop worrying. Is Borislav in position?]

[Yeah. He fed the guy at front desk some line about needing 'more women!' or something. He got out no problem.]

[And you?]

[I'm clear. Ready to go when you are. I'm into the main systems for that floor. Just call out what you need.]

[Okay, thanks. Standby.]

Domino continued her detailed surveillance of the guards below, looking for patterns, patrol routes, trying to establish a head count. She had expected maybe twenty or so guards in Yamada's detail but so far she had estimated double that amount. The homogeny of their uniforms meant that she could remain in position all night and still have no accurate idea of how many she would face. To further complicate matters, the guards seemed to be following no particular protocols, instead seeming only to amble around at random intervals. They were either quite clever or a crew full of amateurs.

If she had been unlucky in her encounter with Capricia, then karma suddenly saw fit to provide Domino with a shift in fortune. A detachment of six guards appeared, flanking three geisha, evidently escorting them from Yamada's floor to the lift. Domino's hiding place was directly above the only return route that the guards could take. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for.

[Angel, on my go signal, kill the lights.]

[Will do. I can simultaneously lock down all doors on that floor, if you want. It might slow some of them down.]

[Sounds good. Oh, and try to locate which house those geisha are from. It might prove useful later.]

[Okay. I'll see what I can find once I pick them up on the lobby cams.]

Domino waited for the sound of the lift doors closing and then followed the sound of the guards' footfalls as they returned to her position.

[Ready in... five, four, three, two, one, go!]

Darkness descended on the corridor below and, in the very instant the scrambler grenade went off, Domino dropped through the flimsy vent grating, landing silently in the midst of the six guards.

Two of the six reacted quickly to their sudden blindness, hurriedly casting their malfunctioning helmets aside, only to be greeted with inky darkness. The guards fell almost as one, Domino's blades whirling a bloody vortex among them. Her first and last strike were separated by no more than a single heartbeat.

She moved off in a low sprint, six dismembered bodies littering the floor behind her. The sound of the locked doors being forced open further ahead came to her as she closed on a pair of guards moving cautiously, back to back. Domino carried her speed forward into a slide which took her beneath their immediate line of sight, the shadow suit concealing her approach. As she swept their feet from under them, she flipped up and over, her blades slashing through kevlar as if it were fine cotton, leaving two more dead in her wake.

Domino palmed a pair of doppler grenades, throwing one left and one right to serve as diversions as she carved a path to the north side of the building. She skittered to a halt at the corner of her turn into the bay-side corridor. Muted comms chatter and, just on the edge of her hearing, the sound of weapons being readied alerted her to the presence of a large group of guards lying in wait ahead.

She flattened herself against the wall and rapidly sheathed her swords. As she glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the bay-side corridor, she managed to catch a glimpse of movement reflected in the glass. Three of the guards on point had activated mini Maglite under-barrel torches on their weapons and were searching for her. That was all she needed for positional targeting. She pulled her SMG free and darted into the corridor.

Dropping into a shooting crouch, she shot the three point-men with controlled, three round bursts. Armour piercing rounds ripped through body armour and, as the men fell, the narrow beams of light from their torches swept erratically around the corridor.

The return fire came both quickly and furiously as panic swept through the remaining guards. They were engaging a target they could not see. Darkness was pierced by the muzzle flash of their weapons as the air was filled with bullets. Domino launched into an evasive series of blindingly fast, random zigzag steps, pausing only to loose off shots of her own. Each time she fired, the guards concentrated their response on that position, using her muzzle flash as a target.

She was able to stay one step ahead of them in this way and had managed to thin their numbers down to two before her SMG registered empty. As it clattered to the floor she whipped the twin 10mm pistols from her thigh holsters and finished the last of the group with shots that shattered the visors of their helmets.

Domino heard more guards closing on her position from corridors perpendicular to her own. Evidently the doppler grenades hadn't bought her as much time as she had hoped. She hurried to the rearmost of the guards she had killed and propped his corpse into a half-seated position. Using his body as a makeshift shield, she crouched and waited for her pursuers to round the corner.

Her heart sank as she saw the riot-shields leading the way. She knew she had no chance of penetration with her pistols; the shields were proof even against AP rounds. Two narrow gaps presented themselves in the wall of armour as the guards established their formation. This was more than enough for target acquisition, and two more guards fell.

Domino then tossed both a scrambler and a smoke grenade along the floor and broke into a headlong dash away from the advancing guards and towards her target. She only had to reach the north-west corner...

A swarm of bullets carved the air around her, the guards using full auto, suppressive fire in an attempt to counteract her smokescreen. She stumbled into a roll as shots found her legs and back. Experience and intuition told her that the armour-weave in her suit had taken the lethal brunt of the shots but that knowledge did little to stem the white hot pain she felt as the breath was blasted from her lungs by the impact.

She engaged her pain suppressor on instinct and continued running, loosing off suppressive shots underarm as she went. The north-west corner was in sight now, the stairway to Yamada's floor a mere twenty-five metres to the right of that point.

A door ahead of her suddenly shattered outwards and the massive bulk of a sumo burst into the corridor. He growled at her, crudely implanted red optics flaring menacingly in the darkness between them. Domino unloaded her pistols at him as she closed the gap between them. Each shot connected with a strange thud, and while blood spurted from the numerous impacts, the sumo seemed only a little staggered from the wounds.

Shit! Subdermal armour, Domino cursed inwardly.

The sumo met her advance with a rush of his own, roaring in rage. Domino knew she had no time to reload the spent pistols and so reached for her kunai. With a smart flick of her wrist, she launched two of the small elongated diamond-shaped blades directly at the sumo's optics. As they found their target in a shower of sparks, she leapt into a dive which would carry her over the sumo, placing him between her and the pursuing guards.

She landed in a full sprint and left the sumo wailing in pain and anger behind her. The corner was only a few metres away now. Gunfire barked all around as the guards clattered along behind her, their movements punctuated by the booming of the sumo's footfalls as he blindly chased after her.

That was when the world around Domino shattered. The impact of the explosion slammed into her back with a force unlike anything else she had felt before. She felt her body being flung through the air towards the plate glass window ahead of her. A thousand crystalline shards spun in the air around her as she burst through the glass. Her mind briefly registered first the heat at her back and then the cold of the night air. Then she was falling and all was black.

Copyright © A. Flood 2010

'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 12

Domino meditates on what lies ahead of her...

Domino narrowed her eyes against the wind and rain whirling around her as she crouched at the edge of the rooftop, her mind in an almost meditative state. The sky churned above her, the low, dense clouds an ominous yellow-grey as they reflected the lights of the city. The air carried a palpable charge, an indeterminate energy which was serving only to deepen Domino's sense of anticipation.

She often found herself coming to this spot when she felt her centre in turmoil. It calmed her somehow, this aerie, her 'phoenix perch', as Angel had dubbed it. Perhaps in attaining perfect balance at the very edge of a seventy-story drop, she also found an inner balance. It was one of the few constants she allowed herself; predictability could prove very dangerous in her line of work but this place had always seemed worth the risk.

Now, as she hunched in the shadows cast by a giant video board, Domino scanned the windows of the apartment building across the street. Distant sirens blended with announcements and music blaring from advertising screens, the familiar sounds of the city her soundtrack as she searched for meaning in the tiny amber squares of light. This was one of her games; on one level, it was a simple voyeuristic pleasure, a safe way of spending time with others. At the same time, it often fuelled recall of memories lost, fragments of an obfuscated past.

As she sought to make some form of connection, her eyes found the image of a wiry man, gaunt-featured in his braces and fedora, a relic of a bygone age as he sat polishing a revolver over the green baize of a card table.

Her fingertips find the components of the rifle, even in the absolute black imposed by the blindfold. His voice tells her to begin and motor memory kicks in, almost an autonomic response. She feels and hears the click and slide of the parts, smells the gun oil, even lingers over the haptic buzz of the targeting module as it slams home. She was made to do this, and it is almost as if the rifle understands this simple truth. She sets it on the table, complete, and his voice tells her, “three seconds. Again. Faster.”

The echo of her past faded, leaving behind a confusion of emotions, most of them unpleasant. She continued her search, hoping for something more, some indication of a life more ordinary. Minutes passed, and she almost turned from the windows in disappointment. Then the girl appeared, wrapped in her blanket, a steaming mug in her hand.

All the shapes of the garden and the street beyond are indistinct, changed by the twinkling blanket of snow. The soft white flakes are still swirling in flurries through the air and several even hang there before her, dancing silently, just for her. She smells her grandfather's cologne and smiles as he gently wraps one of his itchy sweaters around her shoulders.

“Keep warm, Yukiko,” he says in his gravely voice. “I made your favourite hot chocolate. The one from the store in the village.”

“Thank you,” she says, delighted by the treat. She takes the hot mug in her hands and the sweet scent of the drink fills her with a deep comfort.

“It snowed like this on the day you were born,” says her grandfather. “That's why your parents named you Yukiko – child of the snow.”

She feels his soft kiss on the back of her head and smiles. She has known the meaning of her name for some time but her grandfather makes it sound special, magical, even. Here in his house, she is a princess in a grand palace of ice, and all the creatures in the snow are gathering to see her...

As the drone of a passing air car pulled her from the memory, Domino felt the hot trail of tears on her cheeks and rubbed at her eyes angrily. So much had been taken from her. She was incomplete, a sadist's bad joke, cast in a mould of perfection, fractured by uncaring hands. Where others saw her beauty, she felt her inadequacies. While others feared her precision and skill, she feared her nightmares and weaknesses.

She forced herself to sublimate her anguish, focus on the mission before her. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on her breathing once more, resuming her review of the plan. She had worked with Angel on the logistics of gaining access to Yamada tirelessly, long hours spent together pouring over data and blueprints, working through the options. In the end, the most effective solution to the problem of Yamada's increased security proved to be both the simplest and the most dangerous.

While she was prepared physically, Domino knew she must also be the equal of the task in heart and mind. So now she entered zazen, and her mind was filled with a quiet nothingness, an absence of thought.

[What're you thinking about? You've been quiet for hours, Yuki.]

The neural link communication from Angel broke Domino's meditative state and brought her focus back to the physical world.

[Just clearing my head. I want to be ready.]

[You could wait. See if he leaves that place some time.]

[No. He never leaves. You know that. I need to go in after him.]

[I... I know. But... I'm just worried. Sorry.]

[Don't be. It's... it helps to know you're watching over me.]

[Always.]

The link went silent for a few breaths, neither of them feeling sure what to say next.

[Angel, is Borislav still available to help with the plan?]

[As far as I know, yes.]

[I think it's the best chance we have. I'm coming back now. I want to go in tomorrow night.]

[You sure?]

[Completely.]

[Okay. Take care.]

[Don't I always?]

[If only...]

Domino chuckled as she signed off. She understood Angel's concerns. The plan involved so many variables which could spin out of control. During the conversation with Angel, her eyes had stared unfocussed across the city skyline, the thousands of buildings and brightly coloured signs little more than indistinct shapes. As her vision regained focus, she found herself looking directly at the sharp lines and black fascia of Yamada's hotel. He would be there now, in his tower, luxuriating in his penthouse while homogenised security guards kept watch over him. They would do him little good, in the end.

Copyright © A. Flood 2010

'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 11

Here we follow Domino through one of the city's night markets...
 

As Domino moved slowly through the narrow, neon-lit streets and alleyways of the night markets, she realised that she felt more alone and perhaps more vulnerable than she had in a long time. She knew on some level that she had sought the anonymity of the crowds here in order to find some feeling of security. That she was disguised helped a little and yet she still felt oddly exposed.

She wore a long sharkskin duster over black cargo pants and a tattered sweater. A discoloured re-breather mask and goggles covered most of her face, the rest concealed by smudges of oil and dirt, her hair a tangled bird's nest kept in check by a pair of mismatched, gaudy plastic grips.

Beneath the long coat she carried a sleek black semi-automatic, easily concealed in a shoulder rig, yet effective enough to deal with most targets. The hard edges of the weapon against her ribs felt reassuring as she picked her way gingerly through the press of people surging along between the shops and stalls.

She had left her pain suppressor deactivated, wanting to test the limits of her body, of her pain threshold. Wanting also to avoid the all too addictive qualities of the implant. The pain from her injuries was still gnawing at her, instilling doubts as to her abilities, reminding her of the dangers she would constantly face if she continued on this path.

While Domino had been recovering at Suture's, Angel had worked on Capricia's laptop and gained access to the last level of Yamada's intranet. It had come as no small shock to them both when they discovered that Yamada was based in Neo-Tokyo. They had always assumed that he would run his arm of the Yakuza syndicate remotely, likely from some orbital palace or rural retreat. But in the end, one of the men responsible for her parents' deaths and, by extension, all that had followed turned out to have been polluting the very city she had been living in.

Certain that the news of both Koralev and Capricia's demise would filter back to Yamada, Domino had expected him to flee the city. However, Angel had tracked his movements and he had shown no signs of leaving. Instead, he had seemingly remained in his tower, a heightened level of security the only concession his arrogance would allow. Yamada's private cops were already looking for her now. Of that she was certain. She had made too many mistakes. Reaching him now would be nigh on impossible.

As she moved aimlessly along a sheltered side street, her eyes were drawn to a makeshift stall set up in the alcove between a café and a beauty salon. Girls poured from both establishments and paused to coo over the wares laid out on the floor. As Domino drew closer, she saw in detail the jumbled spread of pink tinted items which had first caught her eye, making her think of Angel.

She selected a pendant made from a tiny, discarded segment of circuit board and handed over the asking price without bothering to engage in the frantic barter all the other girls were enjoying. The stall owner, a dark skinned boy with ridge-like tribal tattoos, smiled his thanks as his grubby hands pushed the cash under his poncho.

Domino felt a twinge in her newly repaired hand as she pocketed her purchase and wondered briefly if maybe the damage had been more severe than Suture's analysis had established. She dismissed the thought, remembering Suture's warning that she might experience 'phantom pain'. Why was she so worried? She had sustained far worse damage in the past and endured countless repairs and patch-up jobs. Why did she feel different this time?

The strong aroma of hot tea and tonkotsu ramen wafted tantalisingly under her nostrils as she moved deeper into the market district. Her stomach grumbled, prompting her to make a stop at an old fashioned ramen shop. She ordered some of the pork-bone broth noodles and a pot of green tea from the ticket vendor and perched herself at a window seat, pushing her goggles up onto her forehead and her mask down around her neck.

Flanked by a fatigued, off duty beat cop on one side and an equally downtrodden joygirl on the other, she lit a Mild 7 and forced herself to relax and enjoy the break from the stream of people outside. Her face awash with the soft red light from the chōchin lantern hanging outside, she smiled faintly as she tucked into her comfort food between drags on her cigarette.

“Long day, huh?” the cop suddenly asked her.

“Aren't they all?”

The cop chuckled and nodded, a gesture of empathy.

“You got that right. You here to shop?”

“And eat,” she said, wiping some post-slurp broth from her lips.

“Yeah, they do good noodles here, right? So... you work the loaders?” he ventured, referring to the semi-robotic exo-suit load lifters used in factories and transit centres.

“Sometimes,” she said, smiling. She was secretly pleased that her disguise was giving off the right type of vibes. “How'd you guess?”

“Hey, I'm a cop; it's my job to read people.”

Domino felt her smile widen as she found herself imagining what this cop would do if he had attained an accurate read on her.

“So... er... you maybe want someone to keep you company on your way home?”

“That's sweet, but I have a lot to do after this. I'm a busy girl,” she said in the gentlest tone she could manage.

“Hey, no problem,” he grinned. “Nice meeting you. Have a better one.”

He retrieved his uniform cap from the counter and tipped her a farewell salute as he ducked out into the rain-swept street.

“Shit,” offered the joygirl as she leant closer to Domino, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You feel like giving me your secret, honey?”

“Sorry?”

“You roll in here looking like you do – no offence – and still you get a guy angling for a date? I could use some of what you've got. Shit,” she affirmed.

“Maybe he likes the manual labour types?” Domino suggested.

“Hey honey, I do manual labour all the time...”

Domino laughed at the joke as the blue haired joygirl gathered her things from the counter.

“I'll see you around, sweetie. You stay safe, now.”

“You too,” Domino called after her.

She watched the joygirl smooth her thigh-high socks and tug at the hem of her hotpants before sauntering over to a nervous looking young man with a polished chrome cybernetic hand. Moments later, the newly formed pair disappeared around a corner.

Domino finished her meal and made her way through the narrow, low ceilinged room and pushed open the door to the bathroom. The ancient squat toilet there gave her a rush of nostalgia as she tugged down her pants so she could relieve the heightening pressure on her bladder.

Without really thinking about it, she lit a cigarette as she balanced over the curved ceramic trough, her dark eyes scanning the layers of graffiti tracing the cracked plaster of the walls. She read the crude 'guest book' of the ramen bar for several minutes and smoked the Mild 7 down to the butt before finally wiping herself. Her cigarette fizzed briefly in the swirl of the flush.

Moments later, she was threading her way through the crowds again, her movements more assured now, her confidence returned and most of the excess tension drained from her body. Yes, she decided, the stop at the old noodle bar had worked wonders. She moved deftly from the shelter of awnings to passing umbrellas and back again, enjoying the game, the test of her agility, the simple childish pleasure of splashing through puddles while simultaneously dodging the falling rain.

As she reached the dark heart of the market district, the storm had deepened and the rainfall intensified, causing ageing electric cabling to spark and neon signs to fizz. She paused to buy an umbrella of her own, selecting a hot-pink one with an illuminated handle. Another gift for Angel.

At length, she reached the alley she sought and ducked under the web-work of tarpaulins and corrugated sheets sheltering the passage. Illumination was sparse here, with only a few naked phosphor bulbs strung overhead at random intervals. She passed murky tanks with gloomy-looking fish inside, cages housing rodents, birds and reptiles, all interspersed with myriad old vending machines offering tobacco, alcohol and coffee.

She hugged the heavy duster tightly around her body as her breath started to mist in the chill which seemed to drift along the cluttered alleyway. She was shivering by the time she spotted the tuna fish sculpted from scrap metal which marked her destination.

The small shop was home to a jumble of grimy jars, tanks and vaguely scientific looking apparatus. A skinny girl sat with her breasts exposed, basking in front of a bank of UV lamps at the back of the shop, a black 'x' of electrical tape covering her nipples. She wore a tiny pair of panties seemingly made from the same material as the tape. The girl nudged her sunglasses up onto her forehead and lazily raised a questioning eyebrow at Domino.

“Nozomi... Is he in?” Domino asked.

The girl nodded and called out, “Keroppi-chaaann!” Even her voice was lazy.

Nozomi's nickname for the shop's owner stemmed from his resemblance to a frog. It had proven so popular among his fellow traders that few ever used his real name. It didn't seem to matter to them that they might be hurting his feelings.

“Hello Roland,” Domino called as the squeak of the man's wheelchair preceded his appearance.

“Hello, Sookie. Welcome back,” he said warmly as he clasped Domino's hand in his own.

“Is it ready, Roland?”

He inhaled sharply and scratched vigorously at his stubbled chin before replying, his eyes fixing her with an intense gaze from behind his jam-jar thick spectacles.

“It is. But -” he broke off abruptly, wagging a cautionary finger, “you should warn your client that this is serious stuff. Not to be used lightly. It is, if you like, the proverbial 'one way street'. I only made it out of scientific curiosity.”

“Of course you did,” Domino teased as she pressed a thick envelope into his hand. “I'm sure it will be used appropriately.”

Domino tucked her purchase into the pocket of her coat and gave Roland a soft kiss on his cheek before leaving the bizarre little shop. She set off along the covered alley again, her fingertips toying with the instrument of Yamada's demise. 

Copyright © A. Flood 2010