The unmistakable sound of gunfire makes Ryuk pause in mid reload. Great gouts of blood and tissue blast from the enraged Baconator as it hits the ground hard and slides to a stop at Ryuk’s feet.
Instakill!
“What the hell is that thing?” Ryuk asks after the dust has settled. He takes a step back from the dead hog, afraid that it may come back to life and take his leg off.
FeeTwix sports some crazy-looking amalgam of gun and sword; a wisp of smoke curls from the muzzle. “It’s called a slice bang.” He executes a raffish sword salute and then strikes a Captain Morgan pose. “I scored this in a Steampunk world. The barrel of the gun is right after the guard, alongside the blade. That way you can shoot and stab, or slice and bang, at the same time. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Aside from the fact that you’ve taken a health bar penalty from using an outside weapon, it isn’t bad.”
“It was worth it,” FeeTwix says, “and my fans seem to agree.”
“Fickin’ groupies again? Is this all we’re ever going to hear about?” Hiccup limps over to the Chiup hog. Experience points appear in the air and are divvied up amongst the three. “Wait a fickin’ minute … ” A vicious-looking gut hook appears in the goblin’s grubby paw and he uses it to neatly slice the hog open from vent to sternum. He rummages around inside, makes one or two delicate cuts and extracts a small vial made of green glass. “Aha!”
Having a Shield Thief in the party isn’t so bad after all, Ryuk thinks.
While he has never partnered with someone whose main class was Shield with a subclass of thief, he is very familiar with the thief subclass, as he almost chose it less than a day ago. A thief isn’t as strong as other characters, but they are good at detecting rare and valuable items in places one wouldn’t expect.
“Don’t say I never did nothing for ya, Marbles.” The goblin tosses the small, sticky vial to Ryuk.
“What is it?” FeeTwix peers over Ryuk’s shoulder as he pops the top off the vial. Inside is a note scribbled on a scrap of parchment that reads: ‘To my grandson, I leave my dream armor. It won’t be easy to find, but if you’re as brave and strong as your grandfather, you’ll discover it in an abandoned cellar in the Hills of Hillshire.’
Quest: Will you be as brave and as strong as the old hag’s husband?
Rewards: Dream armor.
Risks: You’ll end up in the belly of a Chiup hog.
Without consulting the other two, Ryuk accepts the challenge and then reads the message aloud.
“Ha! I guess the little ficktwerp wasn’t as brave and as strong as his grandfather,” Hiccup says, “But I do like a challenge, especially when it involves treasure.”
Ryuk hands him the slip of parchment. “Good, this will keep you busy. I’m going to log out now and leave my avatar with you guys to level up. I’ll be back as soon as humanly possible. Please,” he turns to FeeTwix, “keep me alive.”
“No problem. Say goodbye to everyone.” FeeTwix points to his eyes. “Where are you going anyway?”
“To see my older brother.”
Chapter 6: Brotherly love
Dim red lights give the place an otherworldly feel.
Everything is a shade of maroon, from the long leather sofas to the black tables, lit by a single tea candle floating in blood-red liquid. The column that runs in the center of the room decorated with tiny square mirror tiles casts reflections onto the flashy outfit of the gaijin hostess, who sits before Kodai and anxiously pours him his second glass of whiskey. The malt whiskey from Nikka is made exclusively for his club, produced by the single barrel, and ordered a bottle at a time due to the astronomical price.
It is the only spirit he drinks.
Everything is going to plan, Kodai reminds himself, and it is a glorious plan indeed.
“What are you thinking about?’ Sarah asks.
“Your Japanese. It has improved,” Kodai tells the Australian woman, Sarah, whom customers call Seera. The young mob boss tosses his oshibori on the table. It is the second hot towel he has cleaned his hands with in the last thirty minutes, and if he has to wait any longer for Ryuk, there will be a third.
Sarah carefully finishes pouring his drink and returns her hands to her lap. “Arigato gozaimasu,” she says with a full bow of her head.
“You should be more relaxed around me,” he tells her coldly, “I am your employer, after all.”
“I understand.” Sarah scoots closer to Kodai.
“You are not really my type,” he states in perfect idiomatic American English. “When I lived in New York, girls like you were a dime a dozen.”
She bats her eyelashes at him. “Americans still use coins?”
Kodai remembers now why he told the manager to hire her. Sarah was witty, and for the crown prince of a fairly large criminal empire, wit was something he didn’t often encounter. Still, it irked him when she spoke out of line.
“Is something wrong, Kodai-san?”
He sips his whiskey and enjoys the way it warms the back of his throat. Finally, he asks, “How have the other girls been? Anything out of the ordinary?”
Her eyes dart left and right. “No, Kodai, of course not.”
He switches back to English. “If you ever see anything or hear anything, I expect you to tell me. This is one of ten hostess bars that my father owned; it is the most successful and I plan to keep it that way. It’s also close to my home.”
“You got it.”
“Good.” He looks at her fondly and she offers him a rare smile. “Sarah, have you gained weight?”
Her smile falters. “Not that I know of.”
“I think you’ve gained at least half a kilo since the last time I saw you.” He pinches at her waist. There is nothing really to pinch; she squirms and he pinches her even harder.
“Please, Kodai.” She tries to keep what’s left of the smile on her face. “Please.”
“You should be more careful,” Kodai grits.
A bell rings and the women at the other tables stand. Only then does Kodai let go. Sarah slides her ass out of the booth as quickly as she can manage. She adjusts her turquoise bra, smooths her hand over the pink pinch mark, and bows to him yet again.
“Look better next time,” he tells her. Sarah apologizes and moves to the next table. Hitomi, a nineteen-year-old Japanese woman approaches his table.
“Hello, Kodai-san,” she says with a long, drawn-out bow to cover her hesitation. “Your brother is here.”
“It’s about time,” he says in English. Kodai takes another sip from his whiskey and savors the smoky taste. “Send him over.”
(0)__(0)
“Kodai.” Ryuk silently inhales through his nostrils as he chokes down the first rising tendrils of anxiety. Realizing he’s still in his hood, he quickly throws it off his head and returns his hands to his front pockets.
“Are you going to sit?” Kodai eyes his brother with suspicion.
“Yes … sure.”
“Well then do it, idiot.”
Hitomi the hostess bows again and silently backs away from the table.
“Where’s Hajime?”
“He’s outside out of sight, as you instructed.”
“Good. Droids give people the wrong impression of this place.” Kodai takes a sip from his whiskey and says, “We don’t want that to happen.”
Ryuk seats himself in the circular booth. He spots two of Kodai’s security detail hovering near the bar, each nursing a bottle of designer water. One says something to Hitomi, looks to Ryuk, and laughs.
“Why are you late?” Kodai checks the Ice Blue Rolex Cosmograph Daytona that he always wears. Ryuk knows it well; it was given to him by their late father. “One hour and thirty-two minutes late, to be exact.”