The
following is purely fictional. Any resemblance to real life is purely
coincidental.
“Aaah.” He lets out a sigh of relief
as he rolls over. “Nothing else in the world could make me happier than I am
right now.”
Shinji Abe, a 28 year old accomplished
attorney, thrice divorced in a space of two years.Current marriage: pending
annulment.Is still having a binge at 3: 00 am.
“Are you sure about that?” The
strikingly beautiful lady in her early twenties gives him one of her coy
smiles.That means she is up to no good.
“Oh Nanami, you always know how to
take me past the edge.” They are facing each other now propped on their
elbows,and then he says, “Nothing really can spoil this moment for me.”He’s
only known her for a week as a bartender (she does not work there). But he is
sure they are soul mates.
“Are you really sure about that?” His face
looks suddenly like it was undergoing a seismic disturbance. “Shinji,” she
speaks amidst poorly controlled bouts of laughter “Why is it so easy to damage
your emotions?”
“Because I’m the biggest sucker for
love you’ll ever see?” He is right. There is an ephemeral duration of silence—
and then, she places her available hand on his person, stroking his sack oh so
sensually with stray fingers, and then she moves in for the kiss. “I’m not so
sure anymore”
“Of course you’re not. Now, let’s see
about taking you past the edge.” With that said, she mounts him once again.
With her fingers now placed on his sides, they travel the distance up. Then
down.
“Oh Nanami.” His eyes are closed now.
“Nanami... Nana-m-i... Na-miiii.” The
contents of his mouth are clearly seen as his soul mate begins to tickle him.
He starts laughing, he starts laughing wildly. Now the echoes of his
laughter resonates the entire hotel room. “Naha ha ah meehe he hehe.” He’s out
of breath, but that won’t stop her now. She adds more grease to her elbows. The
contents of her mouth are now widely displayed as worthy artefacts at a notable
museum. With her eyes bulging out, she salivates, and then she moves in for the
kill!
Now with tears streaming down Shinji’s
equally bulging eyes, he keeps on laughing, until,he laughs his life away.
Nanami is there to absorb it all up from his gaping mouth.
“You can’t be sure about that, you’re way past
the edge now.” She iterates with venom in her voice. Shinji Abe is dead.
The hotel manager thinking the
laughter was becoming upsetting, barges into the room. At the sight of their
ecstatic positions, he stutters an apology and leaves as quickly as he came. So much for my ‘utmost customer privacy’
policy.
Police sirens are blaring
rhythmically, as they give voice to the crowded scene. It’s your typical crime
scene. Yellow tapes barricading every possible entrance.Journalist and
paparazzi alike going through their usual apathetic routines. A crowd of
speculators swarm the building. The Police constantly trooping in and out of
the hotel, it’s starting to seem like every cop in the area are visiting the
scene; coming up with their usual two-cent’s worth.The apparent heirs of the
victim—the x-wives, arriving one after the other. The make-believe pain in
their screams cannot be ignored, for they are louder than the sirens. They are
being told to remain calm by the police. The police photographers and evidence
crew are still combing the house meticulously. Looking for that elusive piece
of evidence, which would at least inject some rationality to the situation?
Even they do not know what it would look like.
“How is all that even possible? They
are yet to see the body of their dearly...”
”It was the 30th day of
September in the year 2014. The day of the gruesome murder of Shinji Abe, age
28. The body was discovered contorted beyond belief. There were no knife wounds
on the victim. No bullet entry points, no evidence of assault of any kind, no...”
“Kishimoto!”
“Oh! So sorry Monzaemon-san. It’s
imperative I account the happenings on my log.”
A sigh“Just pack up. We’re leaving.”
Sanosuke Monzaemon sometimes wonders what it was that possessed him to request
for the transfer that landed him with his newcoy crackpot of a partner. Was it
that they thought it was equalizing to equate him with people who are in direct
contrast with his build and style, or the agency just loved seeing him in
anguish?
“What even possessed me to join the
B.R.I.F.S.anyway?” Monzaemon, for a split second, regarded his partner and
thought they weren't so dissimilar after all, until: “I knew what you were
going to think next.” He said that casually as if Sanosuke had been audible all
the while. “My only problem with the Bureau of Research and Intelligence for
Freeman Security is the smirk I get whenever I approach witnesses for
questioning after introducing myself and our agency. I get aggravated when they
start stealing glances at my pants. I mean, it really doesn't make any sense.
You can’t see through my pants if you’re trying to sneak a peek at my jockey
shorts.”
“Let’s just go... wait! How the fuck
did you know what I was thinking Sam?!”
The city of Tokyo, the sounds of
wailing horns can be heard tens of blocks away. It’s 6:15am, but it seems the
bustling is attaining its crescendo.
His arrival is greeted with a wave of
applause, stunning the 21year old. “And here he is! Sam Kishimoto! What an amazing young lad.” Shinzo Izo turns
to the president of the Japanese task force, Ono Namikawa, while putting on the
widest of grins, then back to Sam.
“Quite a job you did there! How on
Earth did you know setting Nanami Iko on fire was the only way to stop her?”
Ono Namikawa inquired, almost vibrating the lad’s right hand off its socket.
“W-well s-sir, seeing how useless our
bullets were...”
“Why not kill the witch with fire,
right?” Shinzo finishes for the already red young man, and then takes over
hence forth “The information I received from the hotel manager, Hiro Abe;
stating how both individuals were totally oblivious to his presence—when he
barged in during their fucking—with intelligence gathered from the previous
murders, forgive my language, told me that the witch is at her weakest during
the process and cannot respond to her surroundings until she completes her,
umm, process”
“She’s not a witch, sir!” Sam cuts in
“she’s a ‘Daimre’. And the process has a name! It’s called the Jaegakt.”
Whaaat! He did not just interrupt shinzo’s speech. But I guess it’s okay, when
one’s taking the credit for another’s hard work. Shinzo would let him go.
Now. Sam’s brilliance has greatly boosted
their precincts’ recognition, so also did the crazy media exposures. But still,
it’s all thanks to Sam. Maybe, he might just give him that raise he’s been
asking for. Uuuuuhmaybe not. Chalk it up
to recompense for his thoughtless interruption.
He begins his journey home at about
7:00 p.m. Sam really did not like much of the attention he was showed today.
Several passes were made at him from the females in his coterie. Susan Iwashina
was the most head-strong of the lot. She had deliberately let him see when she
was fiddling with his briefcase. He was a fair distance away, kept at bay by
the unskilled harem when she turned his way, licking her lips. He nervously
downed a swig off a curious disposable cup housing fruit punch, it was all he
could do to avoid eye contact. He really just doesn't give any care or thoughts
about ladies. He has a profuse map of his life and now is not the time for
them. He is a coy man who cannot be lured off his tracks. If anything,
approaches will only feed his rigor.
Now, he is trekking the last hundred
yards to his apartment with a pocket full of contacts. Just what did she do to
his briefcase? He decides to run a quick inspection. All inner compartments are
clean. He knows he’s being followed, the perspiration on his temples tells he’s
tired of playing oblivious. He reaches to the outer flap of his briefcase for a towel to wipe the sweat
off his face. That’s when he finds it! The succinctly sinful sight of a
G-string! His heart races so fast he thinks it might get home before him. And
then, quick footfalls picked up by his ears foretell his doom. It’s too late to
turn back now. The prehension from behind feels a lot more stronger than a
woman’s.
“Iwashina-san?!”
“Wrong, fool.”
“Sanosuke!”
“And thus, in the face of fear, the
honorific’s go out the window.” He un do’s his hold
“Well forgive me, but I was in the
mood to teach whoever it was a lesson. As you can see, I’m in rage.”
“As you can see I’m in rage.” his
partner mimic’s his last words incongruously. “First of all, I implore you to
shove your honorific’s where the sun don’t shine. And secondly, you spoke to
Shinzo like you did all the work you ungrateful bastard. After enslaving my ass
off for this case!”
“You did not do much, Monzaemon-san, I
was the one who worked my ass off for the case. You would only shew your face
where it needed to be shewed.”
“What a crackpot. The witnesses had to see my face to respond to your
B.R.I.E.F ass. And after everything I did for you? All the... emotional
support, I am always there for you god dammit!”
“Sanosuke! Back off! I believe I don’t
appear comely as a homosexual.”
“I should end you right now.” He says
it like it is the most appropriate of truths. “Well anyway, I admired the way
you responded to Shinzo. That must’ve taken some guts. Even I don’t ever wish to
do that. You should be yourself more often.”
“Thank you, Monzaemon-san.”
“Don’t mention it, Kishimoto-san.” He
displays a mock-bow. “And what lesson did you intend to teach me? I saw the
gift in your purse. Susie’s got your number?”
“You’re not a comic. Stop trying.”
“The only thing I’m trying to do is Susan
Iwashina.” Both men share sonorous laughs then bade their farewells. Sanosuke
turns away first like an over-coated crusader and disappears into the night
Sam arrives his abode with a feel of
nausea. He unlocks his door and enters, drops his briefcase on the table and
turns on the lights. Then discovers the intruder.A
female personality, draped in a red overflowing gown, overflowing auburn manes
with purple waves of highlights; flowing like the sea, bringing with it— fruity
scents to his nostrils.Amber eyes, sitting cross-legged on his chair with half
a glass of wine, and a smile that could part the red sea. Is that even a smile,
or a poem, Sam thinks to himself.
“Excuse me, hello there.”
“I believe those are my lines.”
“Ahhaha. I believe you are right,
Samson.” The shock is clearly seen in his eyes.
“How in Strauss’s name do you happen
to know my name?”
She gets up curiously slow. “Would you
like some wine while I fix us something?” She does not wait for an answer
before stepping into action. Sam takes the glass from her. “I don’t drink.” He
realizes in an instant “I don’t keep any form of alcohol in my house. And how
did you get in my house? The door was locked
from the outside?!”
“The dish I’m about to prepare will
vanish your cold.”
“How! I only felt the symptoms not a
moment ago. You spiked my fruit punch!”
“Good rounds, I was under the impression that
you were an expert in this. I know what you did last Sunday, with Nanami.”
“Who’re you?”
“A fan, a friend, a foxy Nox, who’s
come to pay her respects and offer her thanks. Nanami’s been taking all the
good men, with their lives.” She laughs at her own seemingly dry statement.
“I see clearly. Nox; roman goddess of
the night, daughter of Erebus. You’re thanking me for taking out a Daimre, your
competition, from the sound of things. And you know the ceremony to reduce them
to ash. This clearly means one thing— you’re a Succubus!”
Another gift escapes her lips in the
guise of a smile. “Clearly seen, Samson. I was right, you’re good. You’d have
to be, to reduce Nanami to ash.” She delays for a second“They only get
satisfied when they’re fully satisfied, you know, orgasm? The name’s Nikulga,
but my, uh... everyone calls me Niki.”
He shrugs “Please, I’d never reduce
myself to bedding a Daimre, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Really, then how did you do it?”
“I used other means.”
“Do tell.”
He stutters his next words “S-SStrip
tease.”
“Strip tease!”
“Yes. Now shut up about it”
“What?!”
“Please,”
“I can’t believe you got her that high
with only a strip tease.”
She speaks amidst laughter “Good
rounds! I was very wrong. You’re more than good, you’re, you’rea god! Oh god I
can’t wait to lay my hands on you. Good thing I...”
“Aaah!My head!” The young officer clutches his palms at his
temples, nose bleeding.
"Spiked your fruit punch."
Sam drops to the couch, unconscious.
END OF FIRST CHAPTER