For the Good of the Clan

From WeaselWiki
Revision as of 13:06, 2 August 2022 by Wildweasel (talk | contribs) (Dan Kobe has stabbed himself)
(diff) ← Older revision | Latest revision (diff) | Newer revision → (diff)
Jump to: navigation, search

Bastion's last case (before he finally decides to chicken out and throw in the towel) has him investigating police blackmail, going both ways.

Outline (Not Quite Done Yet)

The gears of this case are set in motion by the death of Ryuhei Hasegawa, a 70-year-old Japanese-American business owner. A week before Hasegawa's corpse is found, police Detective Lieutenant Scholls goes on vacation. His vacation spot is not on the record.

I figure this case will start with Bastion on jury duty, in a sillier take on 12 Angry Men, where most of the other jurors are clueless, and one is a complete asshole. ("How about we forget the case and find YOU guilty instead?" Bastion says to him.)

Eventually, Bastion learns that Hasegawa was the last of the Hasegawa family that immigrated to the United States in the early 1920's. Hasegawa was 30 when the second World War broke, and he was held at an internment camp for six years. He had built up a reputation among his fellow interns that he could get anything for anyone, and after the camps, for being the person many other interns looked to for guidance once they'd found out what America had taken from them.

Bastion gets himself vastly in over his head and is threatened by mysterious sources who got his address and phone number because he's too loose with his information.

An explanation of the Hasegawa Clan

Formed just after World War 2 and comprised primarily of people Ryuhei Hasegawa knew closely from the internment camp, the Hasegawa Clan was initially conceived as a business cooperative, where the Clan pooled resources to start a simple storefront in suburban PSE. The original business was a small bar, the Iriomote (Eerie Moat to the unlearned masses). While initially unpopular due to a name most locals could not pronounce, it gained a small cult following towards the end of the 1940's when the name was changed to "Mountain Cat" on the advice of Hasegawa's good friend, Yukino Wakai, cementing his role as an advisor to Mr. Hasegawa. The bar was tended by Thomas Kitamura and his older brother Jimmy, while eventually cash flow became enough trouble that Hasegawa recruited a young friend, Dan Kobe, to handle it for him.

As the Mountain Cat grew in popularity and expanded in the early 1950's, Hasegawa came back in touch with others that he met in the internment camp: Toshi Sakamoto, who had started a bakery; Sammy Kay (formerly Samano Kasugano), who owned a small used car lot; and Keiji Yoshida, who was a down-on-his-luck photographer for the Daily News. Under a small cash flow agreement, Sakamoto and Kay's businesses now fell under the umbrella of Hasegawa Holdings, Ltd. Hasegawa offered to keep the bakery and used car businesses afloat using money earned from the Mountain Cat bar to import new products, in exchange for a modest cut of profits. Yoshida, meanwhile, was employed part-time at the Mountain Cat, starting as a bouncer.

Hasegawa Holdings' operations expanded slowly throughout the later 1950's. Thomas Kitamura used savings he'd put away from tips at the bar to go to law school, eventually graduating in 1960, getting his Pacific Bar license the next year, and returning to Hasegawa Holdings as Mr. Hasegawa's family lawyer. Meanwhile, Keiji Yoshida is promoted to bartending, Sakamoto's bakery opens another branch across town, and Kay's used car lot begins selling more expensive vehicles purchased and refurbished from PSEPD's impound lot.

By the mid-1960's, Hasegawa's operations have expanded, as a handful of businesses local to Pacific County are purchased by Mr. Hasegawa under the advice of Dan Kobe, in exchange for a very modest cut of profits. Jimmy Kitamura is promoted to Mountain Cat's owner and manager, leaving Hasegawa solely in charge of Holdings.

By 1967, Hasegawa Holdings owns 50 small businesses across Pacific County, a trading company based in the harbor, and profits roughly $267,000 a year. Kobe and Wakai, sensing a business trend in the making, advise Mr. Hasegawa that the Clan should make an investment in large real estate property. After consulting clan treasurer, Dan Kobe, Hasegawa invests $750,000 of Clan funds to purchase 200,000 square feet of development land from the city to plan and build what would become the Pacific Court Mall, a large shopping center in the middle of the city. It is completed by 1970, with 25 stores in operation on opening day, and a further 15 in the following two years. Major clients include Sears-Roebuck, Meyer & Frank, JC Penney, and a food court of 10 franchised restaurants.

The 1970's become tumultous. Hasegawa Holdings comes under scrutiny by the PSEPD, under suspicions that some businesses owned by Mr. Hasegawa serve as money-laundering fronts for stolen import goods. Kay Autos is specifically targeted, under suspicion that a majority of the cars were hijacked from import ships, or used as vehicles for drug transportation. Sammy Kay himself is taken to court, but is acquitted of all charges thanks to a skillful defense by Thomas Kitamura, marking an important news day for Hasegawa Holdings, as Jimmy Kitamura becomes a chief of public relations, leaving the Mountain Cat in the capable hands of Keiji Yoshida.

But all is still not well, as in the mid-70's, Mountain Cat begins to lose popularity. Yoshida consults Jimmy and Hasegawa for advice, and the decision is made to turn it into a strip club, which loses Mountain Cat its usual clientele, but brings in more profits. Hasegawa Holdings is publicly taken to task for the decision. While Mr. Hasegawa himself disagrees with Yoshida's move, Mountain Cat continues operations under the new name "Mountain Kittens" and continues making money for Hasegawa Holdings. A personal friend of Yoshida's, Gou Sato, is hired as a bouncer, and some women associated with the clan become popular talent. This does not bode well for public relations, as Jimmy Kitamura begins fighting off accusations that Hasegawa Holdings is not keeping women's best interests in mind, in light of Mountain Kittens' newfound popularity as a house of burlesque. While local law authority objects to the use of the premises for adult entertainment, given the location's relatively close proximity to a nearby high school (city ordinance dictates that there be a one-mile distance), this criticism is quickly silenced (the news media quietly "forgets" about the whole thing, but it is really because Jimmy Kitamura purchases the Pacific Daily News, outside the umbrella of Hasegawa Holdings). Behind the scenes, PSEPD's Vice and Bunco divisions unofficially use Mountain Kittens as a sort of base of operations for informants, undercover operations, and other things. Most notably, PSEPD Bunco's Detective Lieutenant Ryan Scholls is respected as a "VIP" member of the club.

The Hasegawa Clan, Present Day

The Hasegawa Clan family tree.

By the turn of the decade, Hasegawa begins to worry about the future of his clan, as his health begins to fail, and his three lieutenants - Sakamoto, Kay, and Yoshida - grow distant from each other and himself. With assistance from Thomas Kitamura, Hasegawa drafts his will and testament, which is controversially kept under strict lock and key for the next five years. The three lieutenants begin to fight amongst themselves to win favor with Hasegawa and influence changes to the will. Most fights are kept quiet, but eventually PSEPD begin finding corpses of Hasegawa Clan soldiers in employ of the three lieutenants, sparking a quiet investigation. Yukino Wakai and Thomas Kitamura convince Mr. Hasegawa to amend the will with one extra condition, that the inheritances only be given if all three lieutenants' families can get along. The power struggle is silenced, on the surface, but very minor skirmishes continue, out of sight of the PSEPD.

In mid-1985, Mr. Hasegawa is found dead in his country home. While medical examiners remark that he was in quite poor health, his death was not of natural causes. PSEPD begin to look into the clan again, but the Daily News (now a negotiating tool for PR Chief Jimmy Kitamura) threatens to reveal the PSEPD's use of Mountain Kittens, and Det. Lt. Scholls' VIP status at the club, should PSEPD's investigation continue. Scholls also is noted for having taken two weeks' paid vacation, coinciding with the approximate time of death of Mr. Hasegawa. PSEPD unofficially enlists the help of local private detective Bastion Crowley for assistance, based on two factors: he is a relative unknown in the investigation business, and he has a good-standing relationship with the police department after four cases (technically three) in assistance.

Bastion is eventually "contacted" by Gou Sato, "officially" Mountain Kittens' head of security, but "unofficially" a hitman in the employ of Keiji Yoshida.

"Annie" is actually Annie Yoshida; the man she speaks to in the VIP lounge is her father, Keiji, and the young man with him is just a soldier. Annie, Keiji's only daughter, is the head waitress at Mountain Kittens, and eventually is turned into a mole by Bastion to get him more information. Eventually, she gets caught snooping (somewhere) and gets shut up in her room by her father. When Bastion makes further attempts to contact Annie, Gou Sato latches on to him and "implores" him to stop.

What's the crime and why?

June of 1985: Ryuhei Hasegawa becomes very sick. Detective Lieutenant Scholls goes on vacation immediately, despite being advised not to do anything rash by his "handlers." A week later, Hasegawa dies in his bed of a heart failure. Officially, he died of natural causes (dude was 70, come on), but in actuality he was poisoned. The poisoning was not what made him sick; it was undertaken after he had fallen ill by a greedy patriarch, in efforts to "speed things along" and get at the will.

Hasegawa recently adjusted his will, at the advice of his family lawyer, Thomas Kitamura, and placed it under strict lock and key with the intention that his family not engage in petty struggles over the inheritance. Unfortunately, the strict secrecy led the patriarchs not to fight over the will itself, but over Thomas, who outside of Hasegawa, was the only person who knew the exact contents of the will.

The poisoning was handled by Gou Sato, a close associate of Keiji Yoshida and part-time hitman. Yoshida's motive is that he is getting tired of being stuck as the owner and operator of a bar that has been failing since the 1970's. Despite attempts to revitalize it with new clientele by rebranding it from the Mountain Cat Bar to the Mountain Kittens Exotic Dance Club, Yoshida's club has been slowly losing money due to the controversy surrounding the club, the dwindling attendance, and the continuing demands by the girls for raises and benefits.

But the other two patriarchs have motives, as well. Sammy Kay, the owner of Kay Autos, continues to be successful in selling his used and imported cars, but Kay is under the impression that his inheritance will enable him to expand his auto business considerably, and wishes to "get it over with" for Hasegawa. The police do suspect that Kay's operations are running so swimmingly because his "cheaper" cars (with insane price markup) are not so much paying for the cars themselves, but for things that are in the cars, like drugs. Police have not managed to bust Kay or any of his businessmen in the act, but so far only one car has been caught with "product" - half a kilo of cocaine in the door lining.

Toshi Sakamoto is the only patriarch to (outwardly) want nothing to do with the will, as he just wants to maintain a relatively quiet and legit lifestyle with his bakery. Sakamoto's bakery has only been involved in one misdemeanor, a mild sexual harrassment case that was pretty much swept under the rug and has no real bearing on anything. Sakamoto does have power, but he doesn't do anything with it. His real motivation, however, is that he is waiting for his two "brothers" to get Mr. Hasegawa out of the way and take the fall over it, after which he can sweep in quietly and take what's "his."

So really, in all actuality, all three of Hasegawa's patriarchs could be found guilty; it's just a matter of which ones evidence can be found against.

But who actually did it?

None of the patriarchs is responsible for ordering the hit. While it is certainly Gou Sato's doing, his strings are being pulled not by the family heads, but by Annie Yoshida, and care was taken to plant evidence that would link to her father Keiji giving the order.

From Annie's perspective, the constant arguing and bickering between the Patriarchs is getting tiresome. Keiji is never happy, certainly never with her, and her job being suddenly changed from simple companionship to full-on exotic dance was most unwelcome, at her father's insistence. Given that this is, well, a seriously messed-up thing to make your daughter do, she first negotiates that her employment be on a dance-free basis. When this displeases Keiji (as with seemingly everything she does), she starts questioning her co-workers and finding that none of them are happy being dancers, either, and most of them only signed on to be, well, hostesses. Determining Keiji to be responsible, Annie considers having him removed, but catches wind that Chairman Hasegawa is ill and is planning succession for one of his patriarchs. She contacts Keiji's "friend", club bouncer Gou Sato, and asks him a favor.

Now, the chairman is dead by poisoning, and evidence suggests it's Keiji Yoshida that did it. As PSEPD Det. Lt. Scholls investigates, he finds hints that the evidence may have been planted, but it comes to light that this evidence was not acquired legally, and the Group's PR department threatens to expose Scholls' illegal methods (and VIP status at the club, as a conflict of interest) should he continue his investigation. Scholls, then, has an idea that it was not Keiji Yoshida that ordered the hit, but someone else, though he does not know who, and elects not to tell Bastion in hopes that a third party will come to a stronger conclusion outside the prying eyes and controlling interests of the Hasegawa Group.

As Bastion befriends Annie and turns her into a mole, Annie uses this as an opportunity to shed the blame for ordering the hit, pointing at the patriarchs as potential suspects rather than herself. As far as her motivation, Annie does not have any stake in the Hasegawa Group's succession, and doesn't have a horse in the race as far as which of the remaining two patriarchs should become the Second Chairman. All she wants is to take over management of the club, get rid of its seedy image, and make it a better place for her girls to work, and she can't do this with her father in charge. That she would resort to framing her father for placing the hit, speaks to her selfish, impulsive side that she has hidden from everybody that she cares about (and Bastion).

What's the motive, dummy?

Annie Yoshida is already established as being an impulsive person with a need to protect the people who can't protect themselves. The big problem is that the people that those people need protecting from are the entire Hasegawa Group. Mountain Kittens is just one of the places they've got their hands over, in addition to used cars, real estate, the news (unofficially), and the legal system. Annie realizes that it's not just "her own" that need taking care of, but almost the entire Pacific Southeast - and, in true form, the key to defeating the great empire is to rip off its head, i.e. eliminate Ryuhei Hasegawa and let the Patriarchs fight it out, leaving only her and the little bar. Though, as Bastion eventually finds, she did not stop to think what kind of implications this'd have for everything else.

script chunks

What's Artie's deal?

I couldn't tell you if I saw the knife or the note first, but I can tell you I would have missed them both if they hadn't been jabbed right into the lock. My apartment key would have to be disappointed today, as I slipped it back into my jacket. The knife was a shape that I didn't see very often; it tapered off in only one direction, pointed like a backwards moon and threatening to slice anything that got within breathing distance, the tool of some tiny samurai warrior. I had to tug pretty hard to get it free of the lock. Eight inches. Grip of polished but old-feeling wood. Blade, probably steel, certainly shiny enough to be, nicked up like it'd been used this way a lot.

"Bastion, that you up there?" came Artie's voice from downstairs. "If you can spare a couple minutes, I wanna talk to you about--" He froze, his gaze fixed to the blade in my hand. "Ah shit. Don't tell me."

"I will as soon as I know, myself," I quipped back, sliding the leaflet of paper off the blade. It moved almost too easily, as the knife so desperately wanted to cut it the rest of the way, to finish its job or be dishonored. I carefully placed the knife on the floor and unfolded the note.

   TO THE PRIVATE DETECTIVE AT THIS ADDRESS:
   YOU HAVE NO STAKE IN THIS.
   YOUR ACTIONS ARE NOT APPRECIATED.
   OUR BUSINESS IS OUR OWN.
   TERMINATE YOUR CASE.

My gut sank so hard it might have left a crater. When I thought I was doing such a good job of keeping myself hidden, did they know the entire time?

"Bastion. What are you into?" Artie's voice took on a more authoritative tone than I was used to hearing.

"A case." It ejected itself from my lips like the hair stuck to a sandwich.

"Snooping around the Hasegawa Group?" The way his arms folded, made me envision him wearing hair curlers and wielding a rolling pin. It didn't help.

"Suppose you already know the answer to that one."

"What's in the note? They want you to quit your case?"

"What else could they want?"

"Look, Bastion, if they're at the point where they're sending you messages on knives, it's either you're getting too close to the truth, or you're getting too close to getting yourself killed."

"Lemme guess: no way to tell which is which."

"Well, the smart thing to do would be to lay low for now," Artie said, stroking his stubbled grey chin. "Meanwhile, I've got some... old contacts... that might be able to get you something good."


"So who's the client this time?" Artie leaned forward in his easy chair. It didn't look like it felt good, but maybe this was just edge-of-the-seat action for him, for his age.

"Not quite sure. I mean, I know who gave me the job, but I don't know if he's gonna be the one paying me. A man from the police department named Standish."

"Don't know him."

"Missing Persons."

"That'd be why." He tapped a finger on his chin. "Did he let slip anything about why the police need you? Surely they can look into Hasegawa themselves. They've got an entire damn force at their disposal, no matter how big the Hasegawa Group is."

"Well, here's the thing. Standish didn't tell me directly, but it didn't take long for me to pick up. One of the department's senior detectives was a regular client at that girly bar downtown...Mountain Kittens."

"Didn't that place used to be called Mountain Cat?" He ran a finger through the salt and pepper on his chin. "...Yeah, that's what it was. Cozy little bar. Not many people."

"Must have changed the name, then, about the same time they started having striptease shows." Given the quality of them, they probably should have stuck with booze.

"Which detective, though?" I told him it was Lieutenant Scholls. "Scholls? That rat bastard of a... how the hell did he make el-tee?"

"You know the guy, Artie?"

"I was his damn partner!" He rubbed his temples as if to massage the memories back to the surface. "Yeah, I was in the force, way back when. Swore the oath in... '55, I think it was. Scholls and I, we were the good-cop-bad-cop duo to be reckoned with."

"Which one were you?"

"Depended on the time of day. Lot better at the bad-cop thing before I'd had my morning joe."

"That why you only ever ask me for back-rent in the mornings?"

He ignored the quip, remaining firmly in nostalgiaville. "But nah... we stuck together for just about 15 years. Never got promoted, myself. Didn't think he did either, 'til you said something."

"Why aren't you a cop anymore?"

"Little thing happened in the 60s. You remember the big protests, over at the community college?"

Oh hell. Yeah, I remembered that. Huge mess, in more ways than one. It started as college students speaking out against the draft. When they were discouraged from doing that, they started speaking out about their right to free assembly when the Governor told them not to do that. And that's about when the cops got out their toys. I nodded wordlessly at Artie.

"Scholls and I... we were part of the force sent to quell the protests. They gave us helmets and clubs before we got in the cars. Said the kids were throwing bricks. When we got out of the car, I sure didn't see any bricks flying, but our sergeant was there passing out machine guns. Fucking machine guns! On kids!" His face sunk into his palms. "I got back in my car and drove right back to the station. Scholls didn't come with me, as much as I begged him. Ended up throwing my badge on the Chief's desk and walked out."

"Do you know if Scholls...?"

"I only heard through the grapevine a couple days after that our guys... the other cops... started shooting. Thought they were just firing over peoples' heads, but then the news started coming in about kids dying. I forget how many injured. Think it wound up being 5 died. One was shot right in the face. To this day I don't know if Scholls was one of the cops that shot at 'em, but I haven't wanted to talk to the bastard since." He lifted his head back up. I didn't see tears, but there was a twitch in his defiant eyes. "Only way he coulda climbed the ranks was if he followed orders like the fucking lap dog he was."

"Yeah. Well. If *my* grapevine's anything to go by, he's been blowing department funds on girls at that bar."

"Must have a pretty good 'in' with his captain, then, if that hasn't already gotten him shit-canned. You know why it's a problem now, though?"

"Yeah. Mountain Kittens is property of the Hasegawa Group, and their chairman just bit it. They want to keep the particulars down low, so the cops are under some pressure. If any of them goes poking around about the chairman's death, they say they'll go to the press about Scholls. Scandal in the making."

"Well, clearly they know about you now, too, or somebody wouldn't have shoved a dagger in your door lock. MY door lock," Artie reminded. He'd probably add the cost of a new knob to next month's rent, but he hardly even needed to say it - he was as attached to that fancy door as I was, by now.

Board Meeting

Chairman Hasegawa limped into the board room, hobbled over a wooden cane that showed years of masterful polishing. His business suit was immaculate, freshly ironed and starched, and his keenly polished loafers made the very slightest squeaking noises as he crossed the tableless room. On either side of him were two rows of cushioned chairs, constructed of the finest mahogany and upholstered with silk imported from across the Pacific. The chairs nearer to the door were all empty; they were largely there in case the clan expanded, which despite hopes to the contrary, it tended not to. On Hasegawa's left sat his trusted aides: Kobe, the treasurer; Wakai, the advisor; Thomas Kitamura, the family lawyer; Jimmy Kitamura, the public relations man. On his right, the three Patriachs: Sakamoto, Yoshida, and Sammy Kay. Hasegawa sat in a chair right down the middle, grunting a bit as he carefully lowered his withering frame to the chair.

Yukino Wakai bowed as deeply as he could manage from his chair, which was a bit too low to the ground for his taste. "Chairman Hasegawa, I believe everybody is accounted for."

Hasegawa returned the bow, which was not nearly as deep as his advisor's, but one could hardly blame him for his spinal issues. "I see. We should probably skip the pleasantries, as there is not much time."

"That's easy for you to say, Chairman," retorted Sammy Kay, whose name used to be Samano Kasugano before he changed it to be more marketable for his used car business. "I came down here as soon as I got the page, and I've been waiting since 2 for you to show up."

"Kasugano-san." Dan Kobe, Treasurer to the Hasegawa Clan, needed not say more than the name. His gaze shifted from Kay to his boss. "Chairman, what is on today's agenda?"

"An announcement," said Hasegawa. "Kitamura-san has been assisting me in the past week on a matter of, I'd dare say, grave importance. As you have likely been aware, gentlemen, my time on this earth is short. The doctors have told me that they do not know how long I may cling to life, but there is quite a lot wrong with me that they can do nothing about. Perhaps it is simply an effect of old age, or perhaps it is some long-dormant affliction from our days in Camp Grant, only now returning to haunt me."

"I'd appreciate it if we could get to the announcement," said Kay, being met by Kobe's glare again.

Hasegawa continued. "In short, Wakai-san has advised me to write up a will as soon as possible. With the assistance of Kitamura-san, that has now happened."

"Am I to assume that we are not to be shown this will until after, ah, you've...passed on?" asked Toshi Sakamoto, the owner of the Sweetbread Company. "I apologize if this is an obvious question, but I think it best to clarify."

"Correct," Hasegawa said. "The details of the will are known only to Kitamura-san and myself. I do not wish for the Clan to be upset over it. As you know, I've striven to make sure that we remain on equal footing, as ours was not the business of superiority. The Hasegawa Group has survived for the last thirty years as a result of our careful management of resources, shifting profits from strong ventures into weaker ones. The fact that you are all still a part of the Clan together, running your respective businesses in the way you see fit, is a strong hallmark of the Clan's success."

A pounding sound interrupted Hasegawa's grandstanding. "God damn it, Hasegawa, where is your empathy?" It was Kenji Yoshida, owner and operator of the Mountain Kittens club and bar. "The bar's been in the red since June, so where's MY kicker check, huh?!"

"Sit down, Yoshida!" Kobe near-shouted.

"I don't think you fucking get it! The Chairman here is saying the Clan businesses have been kept afloat by each others' profits, right? So why haven't I seen any of that? Do you realize the SHIT I have found myself in? The city is demanding back payments, the news can't stand the fact that we're so close to a school zone even though THEY built the damn thing AFTER we did--"

"Look, if this is about financial grousing, look at what Kay Autos is up against," said Sammy Kay. "One single car gets impounded and found to have a kilo of cocaine in the door panel, and suddenly my entire business is the interest of the entire police department. You know Vice hauled in half of my delivery drivers on suspicion of being illegal immigrants?"

"Enough." Hasegawa did not shout or tap his cane, but the board room's attention was all on him once again. "This meeting was a mistake. I cannot expect my Patriachs to have interest in my health when there are clearly bigger problems to handle. And they will be handled, I assure you...through proper channels. If it's cash infusions you need, I will make sure to put a word in with Kobe-san. The Clan's treasury may not be a charity, but let it not be said that we do not look out for our own. You are free to go for now."

The Patriarchs disgustedly filed out of the room, leaving only the advisors in their chairs.

The Tail

Ruby suddenly pulls the car over, a block away from the club and lowers her head behind the steering wheel.

"The hell?" I ask, and Ruby grabs my head and lowers it as well. "What's your problem?" I ask with considerable strain.

"Stay the hell down, do not be seen with me around these people!" Her eyes seem to be following a group of Japanese businessmen coming out of the club. I don't get the chance to see who they are before Ruby pushes me back down. "I've seen one of them around the office."

I hear some doors shutting, followed by a taxi motor revving and taking off. She finally releases her claw-like grip from my head. "Around the office? What are they doing at the paper?"

"Did you see an older looking guy, greying hair, sideburns?"

"Yeah? I saw him in the VIP area last time I went in. What's his deal?"

She shifts the car back into Drive and follows the cab. "His name's Kitamura. He bought the paper a few years back."

"So did I, but that doesn't make me so important--"

"He didn't buy this morning's issue, smart-ass, he bought us." The taxi hangs right onto a busy street. Ruby lets one of the cars behind her pass by and switches lanes behind it. "Watch that cab. Call out when he's turning."

"Sure...Kitamura?" I remembered this morning's issue of the paper. "He was just in the politics section, I think. Said something about trickle-down?"

"He's full of it. He's no politician. Only reason he even gets printed is because he's got the Daily under his wallet."

"Any idea who he really is?"

"Not much beyond his controlling stake."

"One of the other guys getting into the cab, though...."

Consider me flapped!

"No, Ruby, you wanna know why I'm out? THIS is why I'm out!" I carefully placed the kaiken on her desk. "They sent me a message. Basically told me to butt out. Guy pinned a fucking death threat to my wall with this."

"Well, they can't exactly stab you to death now, can they? You've got their knife."

"That's not helping."

"Neither is you bringing a knife into my work place, Bass."

"I..."

"Look. Bass. I don't like to see you panicked." Ruby does something very un-Ruby-like and puts a consoling hand on my back. It's oddly warm, but doesn't stop me from flinching as she touches me. "This case is a huge opportunity for you! Whatever happened to being a professional? What could be more professional than working for the Organized Crime unit? Where's that unflappable, take-no-shits private dick you always were?"

"I'm not unflappable, dammit! Consider me flapped!" The office gossip chain starts gopher-holing from their cubes to see what I'm going on about. "I wanted to work the little cases, the stuff the cops didn't want. Ease myself into it."

"Says the guy that solved a kidnapping and a suicide-framed-as-murder for his first two cases! Come on, you're fuckin' better than this."

"But I'm dealing with....they're like the mafia! You disrespect them by going through their business, you lose a finger or...something..."

She grabs me and turns me around to face her. I'm having difficulty keeping eye contact. "Bastion. Listen to me. You are exactly the right person for this job. The cops can't touch these shady assholes because they'd stick out like a sore thumb right now. The family has them cornered. But you're a nobody. Just because someone stabbed your wall doesn't necessarily mean they consider you a threat. All it means is they think they can intimidate you for the cost of replacing some cheap-ass blade." She picks it up from the desk and turns it around in her hands a few times. "Look at this thing. Dinged up real bad, and the handle's rotting. They don't care about the knife, just like they don't care about you."

"Actually, hang on. What's this marking?" I point - carefully - at a spot on the blade bearing a character in Japanese. "What's this, someone carved their name in it?"

"No, no, that'd be too crude. Probably a maker's mark or something."

"Any idea whose?"

"I'd have to go ask some people. Don't worry, I know this couple...antique nuts, they run this consignment shop uptown. A husband-and-wife pair. The wife handles all the business, and the husband gets a real hard-on for verifying the authenticity of shit. Usually it annoys me, but I think it might be useful to you."

"What's their address?" I ask, whipping out my notepad.

"Don't worry about that. A knife like this, with a guy like you wandering around town with it? Recipe for disaster. I'll take it myself and let you know later."

"What, you think I'm gonna lose it somewhere, or cut myself with it or something?"

"No, I think someone's gonna spot you with it and get you picked up for carrying a deadly weapon, or worse, send one of their 'soldiers' after you. But those Japanese pricks don't know who I am, and I got a glovebox I can stash it in."

Confronting Yoshida

"So it's come to this, then." Yoshida's eyes were locked to the dagger in my hand. "I don't make it a habit of striking civilians. But you are clearly no ordinary civilian. To have come into my place of business with that dagger...I can only assume you've come with a purpose."

My head cocked to one side. "I...guess? I mean, I do have a reason for coming to you, if that's what you're talking about..."

"You could not be in possession of that dagger if you had not already dealt with Gou."

"In a manner of speaking."

"You are a man of strong will. And as a matter of pride...I would ask your name."

"What for?"

"I simply must know who you are, for you to have been so strong as to defeat my enforcer."

"Well, I uh...didn't really?" I carefully placed the bare knife on a nearby table. "My name's Crowley, by the way. Bastion Crowley. 'Your' enforcer? I'm guessing that means you must be Mr. Yoshida."

"My reputation precedes me." Keiji Yoshida delivers a self-assured shrug. "If you already know that much about me, then I can make no assumptions about how much else you know. I do like to keep things surprising for my audience, as I'm sure you've seen."

"Surprisingly dull, more like. For this being a strip joint, your girls don't seem to like to strip. I mean, Suzuki notwithstanding."

"Suzuki?" It looked like it was his turn to be confused. "Oh, right. I always forget nobody goes by their name here."

"I mean, there was that other girl Annie..."

"What do you know about Annie?" Yoshida's fist contacts the table next to him, nearly overturning it on to his foot. "Did she put you up to this?"

"What? I--"

"I remember you now! You're the boy my daughter dragged up to the VIP room!"

"Your *daughter*? Well, look, I'm sorry--"

"How far did it go?"

"I don't know what you're talking ab--"

"I WANT TO KNOW HOW MUCH SHE TOLD YOU!"

I blinked just long enough that Yoshida was holding a folding chair over his head by the time my eyes opened. I froze to the spot. "I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I said 'nothing'?"

I instinctively raised my arms over my head, covering my face, I felt a blast of wind, but nothing else, as the clang of metal on metal disturbed the silence of the empty club. Yoshida had swung his chair at the table.

Dan Kobe has stabbed himself

"How's he looking?" I was leaning forward, which I only really noticed because someone pointed it out last time.

"Stable, at least," Ruby said, taking a seat across from me. "He wasn't lucid enough to tell me much, but the doctor said he at least missed the important shit with the blade."

"I wish I could figure out why he'd do that to himself..."

"People do a lot of crazy, fucked up things to themselves when they're stressed, Bass."

"But seppuku? I thought we were dealing with Japanese Americans, not..."

"The old ways die hard, Bass, and I oughta know, if..." She just trailed off. "Anyway. Mr. Kobe's probably not gonna be able to talk for a while yet, and I dunno about you, but my stomach's having a regular earthquake."

"You just saw a man who tried to stab himself, Ruby, and you're hungry?"

"Hunger bypasses all things. Think it's in my blood, or some crap."

Yoshida is dead

As soon as I'd regained my morale from the sudden ejection of lunch, I pointed Artie's emergency flashlight at the body. I hadn't seen the face before needing to purge, so this was my opportunity now. It was contorted into the kind of painful expression that I was probably making a minute ago, like something having a violent reaction within him. Except instead of vomit leaking out of his mouth, it was a bit of blood, which was now coagulated into a sticky little pool under his face. His features were narrow, with almond shaped eyes and a tall nose, and his hairdo - while now ragged and out of sorts - looked like he normally had it slicked back and tidy, and just the slightest bits of grey streaks in it. His tongue stuck out almost comically out the side of his mouth; it, and his teeth, seemed to be where most of the blood was coming from. The light shining on him refused to remain where it was, flitting about like an over-eager firefly, until I realized that my flashlight-hand was shaking. I reached my other hand over to steady it on his face for a few more seconds, until I had to look away or risk another eruption.

That face. That horrible, twisted, mangled expression of the most horrible internal pain imaginable. I had seen it before, in this club, and now it was all I could see when I shut my eyes. This was Keiji Yoshida, the owner of Mountain Kittens, and the father of the girl that I had been using as my informant.

I had no idea if anybody had called the cops up to now, and I wasn't going to stick around if I didn't have to, anyway. But I needed to at least figure out what happened to him. I pointed the flashlight around him, being careful not to aim it directly at him again. The Mountain Kittens club had been deserted all day, I would have thought, given that the door was locked and they hadn't been open for business. All the tables around the stage would have been unoccupied, nothing weighing them down. Immediately around Keiji were three small tables that looked like they were very top-heavy. None of them had been knocked over. There were no scuff marks on the carpeted floors. No blood stains on or around the tables. No signs, anywhere, that he had been in a fight or struggle, except for the slightly bent folding chair that he'd tried to intimidate me with. The best I could figure was that he had died on the spot not long after he met me, and had been here the whole day while the bar was closed. And I knew for a fact that I hadn't killed him.

I scanned the rest of the bar for a telephone, finally spotting one hanging from the wall behind the counter. I hurriedly grabbed the pocket notebook out of my jacket and flipped through it until I found where I'd been keeping my phone numbers; I was having difficulty reading them with my hand still shaking, but I ultimately managed to get through to Artie in his apartment.

"Hope this is good, my show's on and I'm gonna be missing it in a bit," he said.

"Artie, it's Bass, I… something happened at Mountain Kittens," I sputtered.

"Uh-oh. What's the problem?"

"Yoshida. He's dead. Might have been since last night. Can you help?"

"Uh…hang on, let me check my Rolodex. I might still have her number…ah, here we go. Yeah, thought this was still in here."

"Whose number?"

"County medical examiner. She doesn't owe me any favors right now, but I figure if I call her outside the authority of the police department, the Hasegawas might not catch wind."

"Could you do that for me? I appreciate it."

"Stay with the body, at all costs," Artie warned. "I know you're not a cop and you don't have a way to tape the scene off, but do whatever you can to make sure nobody messes with that body until the ME shows up and takes her notes. She might ask you for help."

"I'll do what I can." I pointed the flashlight around the club again and discovered a set of velvet cordons and metal posts, sitting unused in the corner. They were likely intended to be set up outside the entrance; I figured I could set them up around the body, just in case.

Legacy Script

# ########################
# ## CASE 5 BEGINS HERE ##
# ########################

label Case5Start:
    "This one's not so done either; here's a couple scenes..."
    
    scene bg Black
    with fade
    "I have a night of restful sleep."
    "But when it's time to wake up, I find that no matter the effort, I can't seem to open my eyes."
    "I try to check if I've been blindfolded, but this just makes me realize that my hands and feet are restrained."
    "I give my best attempt at an impression of Samantha from Bewitched, and wiggle my face around a bit. It feels like it's rubbing against burlap or something."
    "And there's a slight breeze about the room..."
    "...like I'm naked."
    "Who did I piss off? Ruby? Would she be capable of this?"
    "No...Rick wouldn't say so."
    "A whisper of a voice reaches my left ear."
    "{i}You.{/i}"
    "...me?"
    "{i}Seem to be in a pickle.{/i}"
    "...got that right."
    "{i}Want out?{/i}"
    "....gee, wouldn't I."
    "{b}*ZAP!*{/b}"
    "Suddenly, a huge shock pulses through me. It doesn't hurt...it's more like one of those prank buzzers, except all across my body."
    "{i}Well...you're not going to get out like that.{/i}"
    "{i}You'll have to fight.{/i}"
    "{i}The belt on your left hand is weakened. Break it.{/i}"
    "Break it? With what, sheer force of will?"
    "I give it a try."
    "...NNNNnnnnnnggggghh!"
    "Damn! That fucking hurts!"
    "Tugging on the strap doesn't seem to help. I think it's spiked to prevent this sort of thing."
    "{i}More. Pull harder.{/i}"
    "AAAAAARGFUCK!"
    "{b}*snap!*{/b}"
    "The sheer force of my tug backfires on me. Although I broke the restraint, I end up slapping myself."
    "{i}Now...get the phone.{/i}"
    "...Wait, phone?"
    "{i}Hurry. It'll stop ringing.{/i}"
    "What phone? Who the fuck?"
    "There's a bell in the distance."
    "...No, it sounds different from the rest of this. I swear the whispering has an echo to it, like we're in a dungeon...the ringing is too clear."
    "...Wait! Shit, that's my actual phone!"
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with fade
    "It's a bit weird that I haven't seen this place before. Probably because Mom always told me not to look when we drove near it."
    "Bit of a puritan, Mom was."
    "The building looks old. Really old. Probably been here since the 40's if I had to guess. The brick walls seem to be crumbling in a few places, but they've been painted over with a color vaguely matching the actual bricks."
    "There's a weird mural across the front wall. It's similar to those old samurai paintings I kept seeing in my high school history books, except instead of samurai, it's covered in women."
    "The front door has no windows, and is unadorned, outside of an eye-catching sign that reads, \"NO MINORS - NO EXCEPTIONS.\""
    "Well, I haven't been a minor for almost five years now, so here goes nothin'."
    "Hooh. I'm starting to feel a weird shiver down my spine."
    "It doesn't last especially long; not when a kimono-clad woman - barely my age, if I had to guess - bows to me and greets me in what I assume is Japanese."
    "I start to walk past her, but she stops me and repeats herself. Only then do I realize she's speaking English, just heavily accented."
    mai "Do you have raisensu?"
    b "Raisensu?"
    mai "Card with ID?"
    b "Oh! Hang on a sec."
    "I pull my wallet out, being careful to show my state ID card, and not my detective's license. I don't need to blow my cover."
    mai "Five dollar."
    "Oh, right, the cover charge. I fish a five-dollar bill from the dusty money pouch of the wallet and hand it to her. She accepts it with a bow and slips it into a delicate place within her kimono."
    mai "Oh-kei! Please have a seat. Show will start soon."
    b "Thanks. Uh...arigato."
    "She bows again. She does an alright job at masking it, but I can tell she wants to laugh at my attempt at speaking her language."
    "I'll be honest, though, if it wasn't for that Styx album, I'd probably never have learned the word."
    "I try to grab a seat somewhat off to the side, but the ones further from the stage are mostly taken. The only seat I can find in due time is just one row away from the stage."
    annie "Getcha a drink, sir?"
    "While clearly also Japanese - or at least some kind of Asian - this girl seems to have better command of the English language."
    b "Just a cola, please."
    "She bounces cheerfully to the bar, hiking up the skirt of her kimono a bit to step around the chairs. My attention wanders around the darkened club, as the cheap canned jazz slowly fades out."
    "The speakers emit a high-pitched whine for a second."
    "Speakers" "Alright, alright, alright, how ya doin', huh?"
    "The crowd shouts their approval in perfect harmony."
    "Speakers" "Well, this afternoon we got you a special for the tired businessmen. Ladies and gentlemen, kick back and relax - and don't kick your neighbor's backs, please! - and give a warm, laid-back welcome to our own Sleepy Suzuki!"
    "The crowd seems dead set on being as loud as possible, almost drowning out the initial blast of music. I recognize the tune: \"So Nice,\" as sung by Astrud Gilberto."
    "Sleepy Suzuki is a short, slim-and-trim young girl who can't be any older than the age requirement to get into the club in the first place."
    "True to her name, her eyes are perpetually half-closed as she slowly strides across the stage, sweeping her arms above the crowd as she lip-synchs to the Gilberto song."
    "The crowd is mostly silent, not interrupting the performance with hoots and hollers, and only occasionally clapping quietly when Suzuki does a particularly interesting move."
    "Just before the first chorus, she lets the top half of her outfit drop down her shoulders. I half expect this move to reveal some cleavage, but she doesn't seem to be so endowed."
    "She makes a real show of threatening to drop the rest of her costume, facing away from the crowd as she does."
    "But by the time she's done with her second chorus, the music fades out, as do the lights. The robe only hits the floor just before  the lights are completely blackened."
    "I'll be honest, that was a bit disappointing."
    "My glass of cola finally arrives, and is pressed into my hand just as the lights are coming back on."
    "I don't think to turn and thank the deliverer until she's walked off. It's Suzuki, clad only in her hosiery. I don't even get a good look at her, as she's facing away from me and halfway across the club by now."
    "Speakers" "Ladies and gentlemen, that was Sleepy Suzuki with her stirring performance of \"So Nice.\" For most of the evening, she'll be delivering your drinks while we prepare to have some more shows for you. The next one will be starting in just a few minutes, so sit tight!"
    "The jazz music fades back in. They must have a tape loop or something."
    annie "How ya liking the place so far?"
    "This voice comes from my left, opposite the direction Suzuki walked off in. It's the cheerful young lady that took my order a few minutes ago."
    b "Not bad, I suppose."
    "I don't mention my disappointment in not seeing breasts."
    annie "Mai at the door said she didn't recognize you. First time at the Mountain?"
    b "There's a first time for everything."
    annie "I know, right?"
    "Even having a pleasant face to talk to doesn't make me feel very comfortable here. I'm massively out of my element."
    annie "Oh, hey, you should come up to the VIP lounge. We don't usually bring first-timers up there, but hey, you look kinda disappointed over something, I'd hate for you to leave unhappy!"
    b "Really, it's no big deal..."
    "That's a lie."
    annie "Come on up to the balcony with me. My name's Annie."
    "I shake the hand she offers."
    b "Annie? Kinda stands out, around here."
    annie "Well, don't tell anyone I said this, but a lot of our clients have trouble remembering our names."
    b "Really?"
    annie "See, our girls get bonuses every time someone requests one of us by name, and if you can't remember the name, you can't request the girl, right?"
    "I really want to tell her what I think of her profession, but I'm not here to start shit, especially not with a chance at getting into the VIP lounge completely off the cuff."
    b "Right. I promise I'll remember you."
    annie "That's real sweet of you. What's your name?"
    b "It's Bastion."
    annie "Bastion? Hey, I've got a cousin up north named Sebastian..."
    "...wait, she got it {i}right{/i}? The first time, even?"
    "Think I could get to like this girl. {w}Er, profession notwithstanding..."
    "Up the stairs we go. Annie again hikes up the hem of her kimono to climb the stairs without tripping. It seems like she's used to wearing shorter clothing."
    "It's surprisingly quiet in the lounge. It's open-air to the rest of the club, and I would think all the smoke would waft in here, but somehow it's not only a lot easier to breathe in here, but I realize how loud the rest of the club must be if it's this quiet in here."
    "Only three people are up here right now. Two Japanese men - one greying around the edges, the other probably just into his thirties - and one girl, clad in frilly lingerie and knee-high boots."
    "Older Man" "[[Annie, who is this?]]"
    annie "[[New client, I'm giving him the tour.]]"
    b "Say what?"
    "Older Man" "[[Must be something special if you're bringing him up here already.]]"
    annie "[[Don't worry about it, Dad, he's harmless.]]"
    "I can't understand a thing they're saying, but even not having much understanding of the language, it seems to me that the old man is speaking more politely, and Annie has a bit of an attitude to her."
    "Older Man" "[[Is he a police officer?]]"
    annie "[[No, Dad, he's not.]]"
    "Annie is getting visibly annoyed."
    "Younger Man" "[[Sir, please.]]"
    "Older Man" "[[Alright, Masakatsu, your concern is noted.]]"
    "The underwear girl, who had stopped for a moment to keep clear of the conversation, takes a seat on the couch between the two men and issues a toast, distracting the both of them from saying anything further to Annie."
    "Annie points me to another couch across the room in the corner and has a seat with me."
    annie "So, Bastion, what do you do?"
    b "Is this a real conversation, or is it just part of the job?"
    annie "Oh come on, humor me a little."
    "She looks me in the eye with a cute tilt of the head."
    b "I...uh..."
    annie "It's okay, you can tell me! Promise I won't laugh."
    b "Well, um...I..."
    "...really need to come up with a lie here."
    annie "Don't wanna say?"
    b "...You could say that, I guess."
    "She leans in to whisper, almost so close that she could kiss my eardrums if she wanted to. I'd even let her, let's be honest."
    annie "You don't have to lie to me. Are you a cop?"
    "I turn my head in her direction a bit."
    b "...Kinda. I work privately."
    annie "See? Nothing to be ashamed of, men can work at beauty parlors too!"
    b "Huh?"
    "She leans back in."
    annie "Daddy doesn't like cops. I'm trying to throw him off the scent."
    b "Is that your dad over there?"
    annie "Yeah."
    b "Mind if I ask you some questions about this place? Uh, later on, I mean."
    annie "You'll have to play along for now, Bastion. My shift's not over for another hour."
    b "Can I stay here for that long?"
    annie "You're eventually gonna have to pay money for something, ya know."
    "My wallet is already acheing."
    b "Hey, uh, no disrespect, but why would you post that girl at the door when she barely speaks English?"
    annie "You mean Mai? Oh, she gets jealous sometimes. I never let her run the door because nobody can understand what she's saying, but she gets mad because of it."
    
    # Much later, back home...
    "No sooner am I in the door than I get accosted by my landlord."
    b "Uh...hi, Artie, is this about my rent?"
    a "Actually no, I came to tell you to quit stabbing my walls."
    b "What?"
    a "Don't play dumb with me, boy, I know you're the one that jabbed a knife into the wall this afternoon."
    b "I have no idea what you're talking about."
    a "Grr...come with me."
    "He drags me up to my apartment - I'd intended on going there anyway, so I have no idea why he decided to drag me by the wrist - and points furiously at a switchblade embedded in my door frame."
    a "Is this some kind of intimidation scheme?"
    b "It might be..."
    "I examine the knife. It looks expensive; the blade has been polished to a mirror sheen, the grip is wrapped in leather, and the hilt has a gold-colored stamp of a single character of Japanese."
    "What Artie has failed to notice or point out, however, is that the blade is pinning a small, folded piece of paper to my door frame. It's barely a square inch in size."
    "It takes some effort to pull the knife from the door frame, but I am careful to close the blade afterwards before looking at the paper."
    "It's a little difficult to read, on account of the fact that there was a knife stabbed through it."
    "\"Crowley, this is your only warning. Stay away from our affairs, or the wall will be the least of your concerns.\""
    a "....Bastion, you'd better do what the note says."
    b "Why should I stop now?"
    a "This has every look of a Sicilian message."
    b "A what?"
    a "Mobsters tend to do crazy shit like this. Didn't you see The Godfather?"
    b "I didn't, sorry."
    a "Well, clearly what you should be doing is getting the hell out of your case as soon as you can and forget about getting paid."
    "Mom always told me to listen to my gut. Well, right now, my gut is saying all kinds of stuff."
    "Turn in your license and go back to the quiet life of the slacker."
    "Go for it, bust this crime ring wide open and get paid handsomely for it."
    "Go all the way, and get yourself stabbed in the chest for your trouble."
    "Maybe being a martyr for the cause is enough to get the police to actually do something about this."
    "And yet, why the hell am I being so negative about this?"
    
    # Later, the biggest reveal of all.
    scene bg BastionsOffice
    with dissolve
    b "Mom, this isn't a great time to be calling."
    mom "There never {i}will{/i} be a great time."
    "She's got me there..."
    mom "Look, it's about your father."
    b "Steve, you mean?"
    mom "...No, your actual father. The one that died."
    b "In Vietnam, right? The one whose jacket I've got sitting here?"
    mom "Ehhh...about that..."
    mom "I've been...kind of keeping a secret from you, all these years."
    b "You've had a secret? That seems unusual."
    mom "Your father lied."
    b "Lied? How? He was never around!"
    mom "Your father was never in the Wild Weasels."
    b "Mom, April Fools was two months ago."
    mom "Please, Bastion, take this seriously!"
    "Unusually for my mother, I detect anxiety, possibly even tearful sadness, in her words."
    mom "I have here a letter from the United States Army. It's the one I was given the day we learned that your father had died."
    b "What's it say?"
    "She sniffles a bit before reading the whole thing aloud."
    # totally not heartfelt letter goes here: we're sorry, but your father/husband who went to vietnam was shot for his cowardice, and was never in the air force let alone the weasels."
    "No way. No--fffuck!"
    b "That's not true, there's no way that's true that's a god--damned--LIE!"
    mom "Bastion!"
    b "My father was NOT a coward!"
    mom "Bastion, listen to me!"
    b "That--THING--is a fake!"
    mom "That \"thing\" was delivered in person, by hand, by a United States Army CNO!"
    "I drop the phone on the desk. I can still hear Mom pleading, despite not having the reciever to my head."
    "I'm not in control anymore. My body hoists itself up from the rickety old dining room chair, storms over to the coat hanger, grabs Dad's bomber jacket, and throws it to the ground like a judo warrior."
    "The coat hanger comes crashing to the floor in the process, spilling a few hats and one barely-worn corduroy jacket in front of my apartment door."
    "And as if on cue, it starts to rain outside, the sound being amplified from the one window in my bedroom being open."
    "I just stand there staring at the jacket I've just thrown on the ground. It lies there in a little heap, looking pretty pathetic for something that once was a symbol of pride, honor, and duty."
    mom "{size=6}Bastion Crowley, pick up your phone right now!{/size}"
    "I slink back to the old chair and grab the phone again."
    b "...hello?"
    mom "Bastion, are you alright?"
    b "Of course I'm not alright, mom!"
    mom "You've got to realize what happened!"
    b "I do, and it doesn't make me feel any better!"
    "She sighs deeply on the other end of the phone."
    mom "...Bastion, I have a lot of things I need to apologize to you for."
    b "Mom..."
    mom "Your father's death was a difficult time for me, but not just because he died."
    b "Mom, I get it."
    mom "No, you don't. When I learned how he died, I wasn't so much devastated as I was furious."
    mom "Your father had written me every week from Vietnam. Most of the things he'd written were blacked out, but I used to look forward to his letters every day."
    mom "But when the CNO showed up at the door a year after he'd gone overseas, I had much the same reaction that you did."
    b "Why don't I remember that?"
    mom "To have learned that the man I'd loved was lying about what he was doing...!"
    b "Why did I believe he was in the Air Force? Where'd the jacket come from?"
    mom "So...Bastion, I'm sorry I kept up the lie for you. I'm sorry, because the circumstances of your father's death stopped me from ever properly grieving for him. I didn't think he deserved it."
    b "...."
    mom "I've been living as much of a lie as he was."
    b "...."
    mom "Bastion, are you still there?"
    b "I...I'm sorry."
    "My face is soaking in my own tears."
    mom "Do you forgive me?"
    b "....What you just told me would be hard for anyone to live with, let alone a boy of my age."
    b "So...I forgive you, Mom. And I'm sorry for every time I argued with you about it."
    "It takes a big man to admit they've done something wrong, or so my father told me."
    "Except this time, I don't mean my biological father, Richard Crowley."
    "I mean Steven Marshall, the man my mother truly loves for who he really is."
    b "...I have a few questions, though."
    mom "Okay. I think I owe you this much."
    b "Did you ever tell Steve?"
    mom "He's right here. He heard me."
    b "...Did you not tell him before?"
    mom "I only ever told him that your father was in the army."
    b "So you really were planning on taking this to the grave with you."
    mom "The only reason I'm even bringing it up now is because I found the letter in an old box."
    b "Sounds awfully convenient."
    mom "I know you probably don't trust me anymore, but--"
    b "No, I trust you, I just...picked a really bad time to make a joke."
    "She makes a noise...I can't tell if she's laughing or tearing up again."
    mom "Bastion, do you still wear that jacket?"
    b "Until recently."
    mom "I want to ask you one favor."
    b "Yes?"
    mom "Don't get rid of it. It might not have been your father's, but it still belonged to a brave man."
    b "A real Wild Weasel?"
    mom "Yes. When you wear it, you're wearing it in tribute to the real man who fought for what he believed in."
    b "Despite it not being what the country believed in."
    mom "What are you saying?"
    b "I'm saying Vietnam sucked."
    "I hear another noise from the other end. It...sounds like laughter?"
    mom "Well, gee, don't we all know it by now!"
    b "Uh...Mom, are you okay?"
    mom "I actually feel pretty good right now."
    b "I'd better let you go. I...uh...have a case?"
    mom "Fair enough, I'll come visit later."
    b "You know where I live?"
    mom "Your sister told me."
    "Tera, you little traitor."
    b "Fair enough. I'll talk to you later."
    mom "Love you!"
    b "...Bye, Mom."
    "Clack."
    "....This is a lot of information to take in."
    "The clock only reads 6:30 PM, but it's too late for me to bother going out again, and the weather isn't seeming to pick up."
    "It's a bit weird that it's raining in the middle of June, but I suppose it can't be helped, given the location."
    "Coastal weather always did kind of suck."
    "Hmm. Here's a thought..."
    scene bg Tandy
    with dissolve
    pc "POST #3011 - REMEMBER ME?"
    pc "Hey, Chatbox Shamus here, bet you thought you'd never see me on here again. Well, I'm not here to beg for work again, at least not after the SysOp got after me about it last time. I thought I'd come here and both apologize (for the ads) and thank you (for not only actually giving me something to do, but also for giving me a good laugh once in a while. --MORE--"
    pc "Does \"Asteroids\" still post here? I'd like to thank him especially, and give him a message: yes, the cops know what a BBS is, because they hired me through this one. -Chatbox Shamus"
    "I'm feeling pretty awesome right now, for some reason. I do hang around for a bit and watch the messages pop in. It's the week before finals at the campus, so I imagine there are a lot of students in the computer lab."
    pc "Hey, no hard feelings, CS! Though in all honesty, I really did want to hire you to find my missing Twinkies. -DT"
    pc "But didn't you eventually find them? -PA"
    pc "Yeah, they fell behind my work desk, and they were still edible! -DT"
    pc "Didn't that happen A YEAR ago?! Holy crap, you're a braver man than me! -MM{w}\n===SYSOP NOTICE: Watch your language!==="
    pc "What did happen to Asteroids, anyway? He was hilarious. -CQ"
    pc "I'm still around. Video games suck nowadays, though. -The Artist Formerly Known As Asteroids"
    pc "If you don't mind my prying, what are you into nowadays? -Pooyan"
    pc "Star Trek, dude!"
    "Ah, same old group. I'm gonna miss it when all these guys graduate. ...Or maybe they already have."
    "Kinda wondering if I'd end up meeting them if I bother going to college myself."
    "...kinda wondering if it'd be worth meeting them."
    
    # and later still. something i felt like doing
    r "Hey! HEY!"
    "It's never a good sign when Ruby is running in your direction."
    b "What the hell?"
    r "\"Thou shalt not hold any gods before me!\""
    b "Ruby. I didn't take you for a religious type."
    r "That's from Ruby's Ten Commandments. The other nine are pretty much \"Don't be an asshole.\""
    r "On that note, who the hell's this?"
    annie "I should ask you the same thing!"
    r "Are you trying to play your little whore game with my partner?"
    b "Ruby, I'm flattered, but--"
    r "But what? You don't see me that way?"
    b "I'm trying to explain something to you, will you shut up for a sec?"
    r "Nobody fucking tells me to shut up! I oughta--"
    "{b}*SLAP!*{/b}"
    "It takes me a few seconds to realize what just happened. Ruby is standing there, rubbing a fresh red mark on her left cheek, while Annie is slowly backing away from me."
    "That's when I realize how much my hand is stinging right now."
    b "Holy shit, I'm sorry."
    r "No, you know what, I think I deserved that."
    b "Uh, hey, Annie? Where are you going?"
    "Annie stops backing away; she's about twenty feet away from us now."
    annie "Me? Oh, heh, heh heh...uh..."
    b "I meant to introduce the two of you."
    r "Yeah, but you sure have a funny way of doing that, you bastard."
    b "Hey now."
    annie "So, uh..."
    b "Oh. Right. Uh, Annie? This is Ruby. Um...we've been friends, I guess, for a while."
    r "You guess?"
    b "Damn it, Ruby, {i}you{/i} try introducing two women who almost engaged in a catfight in the middle of the street."
    r "That didn't happen, and you know it."
    annie "You two argue as if you're married."
    b "I like to think we skipped over the romance and marriage and went straight to the fights."
    r "Fuck you."
    b "Thanks for that."
    r "I do my best."
    annie "I'm kind of lost. Are you two engaged or something?"
    b "No."
    r "{i}Hell{/i} no."
    annie "So uh...Ruby, was it?...you wouldn't mind if I were dating Bastion?"
    r "You keep your hands off him."
    b "Ruby."
    r "You want a date with this guy, you go through me first."
    b "Ruby!"
    r "What, god dammit?"
    b "I'm twenty-six, Ruby. You can quit it with the maternal act."
    r "First we're friends, then we're engaged, now you think I'm your mom?"
    # How the hell am I going to finish this? I'm having fun with it...
return