The fake plastic lanterns of the izakaya across from the bar are ominously enticing, like the rooms of red light in Amsterdam. Last time I went there, me and Big Bro were stumbling drunkenly through the cobblestone streets, when this lady with gaunt cheeks lulled us toward her window with a wag of a finger. We gawked at her just like window shoppers in Kinza, but I became grossed out once I realized where we were, just like I was whenever the boys dragged me through the red light district in Koshuku. Big bro told me earlier that day, as we were smoking, that he had a weird conversation over the phone with the dude from Columbia that we were supposed to meet up with on the day following. After we went beer tasting, we sparked a roach over some bridge overlooking the canal and had a short chat.

"Hey, so why did Andreas postpone the deal anyhow?"

"Mean y'already forgot?" he snapped at me.

"You never told me in the first place!" I snapped back at him, "Said, 'I'll tell ya 'bout it later'. You were talking in Spanish. I didn't understand a damn word you said!"

"Right, well, something went wrong along the way. Andre said he had some business wayside o'town but he's gotta lie low for the moment. 'Pparently there was some kinda police bust. Junkies keeping people doped up in cages like animals on a farm. Creepy shit, right?"

I look up at the sky and see the lights shooting up from the Owari Metropolitan Police Headquarters, like sticky fingers running along the clouds as they droop over the city. 

"Harley." I hear a voice from behind.

"Huh? Whaddoya want?"

"I thought you ghosted me again so I closed your tab. What have you been doing out here so long?"

"What's the matter? Can't a man go outside for a smoke?"

It's true. I did ghost her the last time I saw her, but every time I'm with her, she talks my ear off. Half the time I can't even get a word in.

"You're taking too looooooooong!"

Her name is Yamanaka Reiko, but everyone who knows her calls her Maki, because of her wavy black hair. She's about 6 years my junior. Apparently we grew up in the same town, but I never met her until she came to Owari; when I was a teen, I remember a young girl standing on the street corner by the EOS gas station every Friday in Odaigahara, watching me and my gang ride by on our Yamaha Majestys. However, whenever I bring it up, she acts like she didn't hear or understand the question. It's been two years since we met. She hangs out at my favorite bar every weekend, presumably because she knows I'll always be there.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" I flick the cigarette butt away and turn back to the bar, where the neon glow of the beer signs spill out onto the street. Maki waits at the door, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently, when I notice some cat walking down the alley, dressed all suspicious-like. Trench coat, bowler hat, round sunglasses, fu manchu.

I throw my arm around Maki's shoulder, lightly grasping the fringes of her black fur coat, keeping a sharp eye looking over my own, and slowly walk her back to the booth.

"You know, ever since Fukuchi got elected, there's been a rumor that they've been putting rat poison in those cigarettes. I think it's time for you to stop smoking."

"Uh-huh." I say, watching the guy as he walks in behind us; he stops in the doorway for a second, and my hand gravitates towards the gun tucked underneath my shirt, but he just looks around. Maki sits down first, and I sit down to where I can get a clear view of 'im. He quietly takes a seat at the counter, as the salarymen sitting beside him drink their beers, unawares. I try to pretend like I'm listening to Maki's chatter, but my mind is elsewhere, watching him and the door.

Maki's voice fades into the background as I watch the man at the counter. He speaks to the bartender, but it's too low for me to catch what's being said. He doesn't look like your typical thug. He's too conspicuous; maybe he's trying to stand out on purpose, so I don't suspect him.

Maki tugs on the collar of my shirt, pulling me back to the here and now. "Harley, you're not listening to me."

"Sorry, Maki. Just got a lot on my mind."

She looks at me, concern etched on her face. "You keep looking at that guy. Is something the matter?"

I nod, sipping my beer. "Can't shake the feeling that he's not just here for a drink."

Then, a wide shadow pops in the door. Normally I would've been startled, but I'd recognize that shape anytime, anywhere. It's Big Bro. AKA "Matador", AKA Isozaki Masanori. He instantly notices me from across the bar and starts taking big hulking steps along the carpet before gently brushing the creep's shoulder with his titanic hand. He sits down in the chair across from me like a Greek god settling in his throne on Mount Olympus before scooting toward the table.

"That your guy?" I says to him.

"Wouldn't call him 'my guy', but he paid me good money just to get a chance to talk to you." he replies.

"Somebody asked you about me and you just point the finger when he offers you some dough? What the hell is your problem?!?"

"Calm your tits, Harley. You'll see in a second."

They both exchange looks for a moment and nod to each other, and following this, Big Bro's contact turns around and waits a minute before coming over to the table with his beer.

Lifting up his glasses, he looks me directly in the eyes, and I recognize him in a blink.

"You...what the hell are you doing here?!?"

Matsuda Yuichi. The Owari police chief. I've never met him personally, but I've got a grudge against the guy.

"I came to ask for your help." he says sullenly.

"Big bro," I turn towards him, "Take her home, would 'ya?

"Harley, what's going on?" Maki protests.

"I'll tell you about it later. We're going out for a walk."

Before I lose my composure, I get up from my seat and quietly pay my tab before rushing towards the door, beckoning the chief towards me, giving one last nod to Big Bro before leaving the bar. Once outside, the chill of the night air hits me, momentarily calming the storm brewing inside. Matsuda follows, a few steps behind, his expression still. The neon signs of the city cast a surreal glow on the wet streets, reflecting a world tinged with shades of uncertainty.

Matsuda removes his bowler hat, running his hand through his graying hair. 

"So what the hell brings you to circus town, Matsuda?" I say, my right arm shooting out towards the skyline, "Are you running low on clowns in your department?"

He looks back at a shadowy figure standing in the distance; he's clearly there to protect Matsuda. I have no intention of killing either of them, even though I could do so with ease if I wanted to, but there are probably people standing at the sidelines that I can't see. Anyhow...

"This is no time for banter, Kajiwara." he pauses with sudden seriousness, "The matter is urgent."

The urge to mock him is overwhelming; the incident at the Owari Port Park is still fresh in my mind. Just a year ago I got caught in the middle of an ambush during a music festival. Me and my band were performing our first gig in five years, but it turned into a massacre when shots were fired at the stage in the middle of our set. My bassist and childhood friend, Daisuke Nomura, was killed in the crossfire, alongside twenty other bystanders; when the cops were called, they took more than half an hour to show up, and my intuition says that the police were either paid, or told by some higher-ups, to hold off before heading towards the scene.

"You've got a lot of nerve to come here and ask for my help, Matsuda." I say, sticking my hands into my pockets and kicking the air, "My talent doesn't come cheap, especially not for you."

"But you're not going to refuse?" he replies firmly.

"Of course not, I know why you're here." I smile, "Kikuji wants to replace you. I heard it through the grapevine. Now that he's got a few puppet strings in play, he's planning to fire you...the old-fashioned way. I'm sure your funeral would be extravagant, but you want to live in spite of it all, don't you? You pathetic little rat."

He raises his hand and closes his fist, causing the shadowy figure behind him to recede into the darkness.

"It's more complicated than that. I'll explain everything when we get to headquarters."

"To the police headquarters?" I scoff at him, "You want me to follow you there? How gullible do you think I am?"

"Well, if you were suspicious of me, then you were a fool to come out here in the first place. You had about four other guns that were trained on you that went unnoticed, but I waved them all away just now."

That's true. If this was some kind of setup, Matsuda wouldn't have bothered risking his life by inserting himself into the situation. He would have sent somebody else to do the dirty work for him. Scratching my chin for a moment, I reluctantly oblige.

"If you think I didn't notice them, then you don't understand me at all, Matsuda." I bluff, "Alright, I'll go with you. But you better not waste my time."

Matsuda slips the bowler hat back on his head, tipping it in acknowledgement of our agreement. "I assure you, Kajiwara, you'll go home tonight with more than you left with."

"Is that so?"

We exit the alley and continue along the sidewalk hugging Nishikawa street, when a cop car rolls by us; he immediately walks in front of me, giving them the signal to depart.

"Ain't you being a little bit paranoid?" I say.

"This is just standard protocol. I don't often involve contract killers in police business, as I'm sure you well know. This took a lot more organizing than you probably realize. I'm not always surrounded by friends. Justice and loyalty have become a scarce resource in our society."

"Seems like that's the way it's always been." I reply, as I fetch a patch of cigarettes from my shirt pocket; he reaches into his own and grabs a lighter, and I hand him one of my cigarettes as a courtesy, "You know, I was just thinking about how orgs are all like gangs; the police, the KGB, the government."

"Then you must be familiar with the concept of a 'monopoly on violence'." he replies as he lights me up. I take the lighter and light him up in kind.

"What's that?" I say, taking a drag.

"It's the idea that a government has the exclusive right to use or authorize the use of physical force. It's a principle of modern public law, where the state claims the sole authority to use force to enforce its laws and decisions."

"Nobody has a right to use physical force. People just want all of the privileges that come with having status and money. And that means going to war with everyone that stands in your way, if you can."

"Well...that is how things were before the Meiji period. You know, you're not as stupid as I thought, Kajiwara, but I guess that's why you're so good at what you do—the modern education system has clearly failed you."

"Why do you say that?" I reply, taking a drag.

"Prior to modernisation, Japan was very much as you describe, like the American wild-west following the civil war. England was in a similar condition, but then a man named Oliver Cromwell came along, and there was a great unification. It seems like there's a period in the history of every country where it was fragmented and then reunited because of modern law. But inevitably, following unification and the advent of organised, modern governments, there will be people who desire power, and who will want to achieve it in the old fashioned way—by any means necessary—rather than participating in democracy. This is where organized crime comes from."

"I don't think so. Way that I see it, nobody ever joins a gang because they want some imitation of political power. I hear the same story every time. Some guys in the neighborhood are trying to beat you up and take your lunch money. Your buddies in the neighborhood are the only ones who are willing to protect you..."

"And these buddies of yours just happen to be friends with Hayashi Shozo?"

"You know more about me than you're letting on, Matsuda..."

I didn't meet Shōzō Hayashi until I turned twenty-one. I was riding with boilersuits for the latter half of my teen years 'til then—the Noisy Elephants, my old crew. That was when I left the boiler suits and became a real yakuza. I went to Owari and made easy money organizing rock gigs at clubs with my gang connections. Soon after, I made enough money to buy my Harley Davidson, and that's when everyone started calling me "Harley".

"You're not so inconspicuous, Kajiwara. You're a mediocre talent, but you experienced more than your fifteen minutes of fame. People in this town either know you or they know your alter ego. You can't live like a celebrity without painting a target on your back. You have an obsession with making a name for yourself. It's your fatal flaw."

"Is that your excuse for letting the Yamadas kill the citizens you were supposed to protect?"

"It's not an excuse. I'm just telling you how reality works. Kikuji is a terrorist with thousands of lackeys, and he threatened to do much worse than killing you if I interfered. If I could spare every life in the world from death and despair, I would, but we don't live in that kind of world."

The more I speak to this robot, the more I'm disgusted by the way that he talks. But he's right. I have my principles; I wouldn't do anything I do if I believed it was all just about the money. But money is just a means to an end. If the cops are turning against the Yamadas, then it means the Hayashis have a stake in this too. The OMPD headquarters is still a block away, but I let the convo fade into silence, for my own good. As we near the entrance he stands to the side and looks around before nodding towards the driveway.

"This way, Kajiwara. Quickly."

We slip through the driveway into the back lot, and he approaches a security gate that leads down into some kinda underground parking garage. He slides his keycard through the side panel, causing the steel door beside it to click, opening it and motioning for me to enter before him. I flick my cigarette onto the asphalt and he follows suit before closing the door behind us. The underground parking garage is dimly lit and mostly vacant, save for what looks like a couple of armored SUV's, and there's a pungent rubbery smell filling the space. Matsuda leads me through the labyrinth of parked vehicles with a purposeful stride, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to ensure nobody is around.

He leads me into a corridor that veers off towards the side, where an elevator awaits us at the end; small glowing red lights hang from the roof, bleeding into the shadows.

"Where are we going?" I ask as he slides his keycard into another side panel.

"To levels unknown." he replies as the steel monster bares it's jaws, pulling him inside with it's velvet carpet tongue. I follow behind him and the doors close with a silent hum. The elevator descends, the numbers on the display still.

"Is this some kind of secret bunker?" I ask, but when I look to my left, I only see his hat and coat floating where his body would be.

"We're going down into the depths, Kajiwara."