Ray's leg bounced as he waited in his bedroom, staring at his computer as he waited for the message to come. It was still early in the morning so he doubted he'd get an answer soon, but the anxiety had forced him to sit as his desk to be absolutely sure. It was the greatest relief when he finally got an alert about a new newsletter for the Administration. It wasn't what he was looking for but he checked it anyways, and what he saw gave him at least some relief; a major smuggling operation had been busted. Evidently this was the source of the two kitsune's that appeared. From there it was the usual: report what you see, keep your eyes open, etc..
Ray sighed in relief and stood up, about to shut off his computer when another message came through from the administration, requesting his presence at the main office. He hoped it was just to pick up a reward but in his stomach he knew something was wrong. Quickly he gathered his supplies and rushed out of his house.
Let his gut instinct, which was screaming "danger" at him, be wrong this time.
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The bus ride to the Hunters Administration was thankfully short, and when he arrived he was quickly ushered to a meeting room where quickly he knew this wasn't going to be simple; already several heavy hitters were in meeting room, looking deathly serious. A woman at the entrance of the room handed him a thick packet and he quickly found a seat in the rows of chairs facing the podium and projector. One by one the seats were filled until it was standing room only, any whispers ending when a door near the podium opened to let in an older man with a thick, bushy, grey-streaked beard and a furry cloak. He quickly took a spot at the podium and he nodded to the crowd. “Good morning everyone. To those who don’t know, I am Thaumaturge-Deputy Dawson, currently in charge of this operation. I thank you all for coming, as I know this is rather short notice.”
Dawson raised a hand and the lights in the room darkened, a projector screen rolling down behind him, the projector turning on and displaying two news articles. “Now, for those who did not check their newsletters, there were two incidents involving kitsune yesterday, one at our Yokaitown branch and at a small park in another section of the city. You can find copies of the news reports and further incident details in the packets given to you at the door. Further investigation was held, and it was discovered that both kitsune had escaped from a smuggling operation, one we shut down. This is where the public information ended.”
A physical weight seemed to settle over everyone as Dawson looked about the room, “I should not have to tell you, however, that our purview is keeping information out of the public eye.”
Another wave of the hand and the projection showed mugshots of a plain looking man, pictures of various tattoos on his body and a small, docked cargo ship taking up one corner. “This is Iosef Delaz, small time Hungarian smuggler of mundane goods. He wasn’t anyone of note until today. The tattoos shown here are attempts at defensive magic, shoddy though they may be. Between interrogation and investigation of his ship, we’ve been able to determine he was part of a concerted effort to traffic the kitsune into the U.S..”
Another wave and now the images were various docks and ports around both New York and Yokaitown, along with multiple images of people. “Our investigations revealed there are at least two other kitsune being brought into the U.S. along with other mythen, though exact details are scarce. Ergo, we will be forming teams to investigate each area of interest. When you hear your name called, please head to room 3-2B in order to receive more information.”
Dawson clapped and the projector turned off, lights returning to normal as he began calling out names, three or four people to each team. Ray had his hands clasped together in front of him as he sat, forcing his leg not to bounce as he waited to be called. This was it: this was probably going to be one of the biggest missions of his career, even if they just sent him to one of the “safer” places to investigate. However, as more and more teams left, he found himself alone in the rows of chairs, now nervous as Dawson waved. “Mr. Tomino, if you would come here a moment.”
Ray nodded and approached, standing before the podium. Dawson studied him a moment, seemingly looking through him before speaking, “You take after your father, in more ways than one.”
Ray’s anxiety was replaced with something much more bitter, but he nodded to his superior. “Thank you, sir.”
“I know your relationship is strained, but you should take it to heart. It’s part of why I’m giving you a special assignment.”
“Sir?”
“I am not technically supposed to be saying this, but we are temporarily understaffed with most of our top hunters on missions already. That is why you and several “up-and-comers" are going to be given special permissions to be part of this mission.”
That got Ray’s attention immediately. “Sir, is this-”
Dawson raised a hand to stop his question. “This is not a “graduation” mission, at least not officially. I’ve no doubt your success here will encourage the rest of the management to finally push through your paperwork, however.”
...This has just become the most important thing in Ray’s life. Anxiety and bitterness were washed away in a flood of almost desperate excitement, and he tried to keep his face schooled while trying to play it cool. “Is this mission really that important, sir?”
"Every mission is important, this just happens to be more so. It’s why we’ve chosen the team as we did.” Dawson waved a hand over the packet Ray had, and the first page became a dossier of an all-too-familiar face. “I’m sure recognize Mr. Boothe.”
“I do, sir.” It was amazing how Zanzibar could look so smug even on his official photos.
“In terms of success rates both working together and solo, you two are some of the best rookies we’ve seen in years.”
“Zan?” Ray couldn’t stop the incredulous word from leaving his mouth.
“I’m well aware of the many, many,” Dawson took a deep breath through his nose, “many complaints about Mr. Boothe, but despite this he has always been working towards the administration’s goals.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Sir, Zan- Mr. Boothe, while I can’t say anything to his success rate, he isn’t always the most... focused, of Hunters.”
“Which is why you’ll have two chaperones.” Dawson nodded and Ray flipped through the packet to see two other people. “Agent Adler Woodbanks, F.B.I., and Hunter Juzo Araki.”
“F.B.I.?”
“They insisted this smuggling is related to another matter. You four will be heading to the Yokaitown deep-docks to investigate. I feel I do not to reiterate given your methodology, but do not take any risks that aren’t necessary.” Ray debated asking a question on his mind for a moment, and the instant he opened his mouth to do so Dawson raised a hand. “You are as much Boothe’s chaperone as Araki is yours.”
God damn it. “Yes sir...”
“Now, if nothing else, report down to the garage. The others should already be waiting for you.”
“Yes sir.” Ray nodded and quickly moved out of the meeting room and towards the elevator. When he got down to the garage and past security he quickly moved through the rows of cars, vans, and enchanted vehicles to try and spot any familiar faces, finally coming out to a nondescript black van. The back doors were open and he could see Zanzibar all but pouting in the back while sitting on a bench, two men in front seats that he guessed were the chaperones. Ray approached the van and nodded Zanzibar as he stepped into the van.
“You Tomino?” The blonde man in the driver’s seat glanced at Ray in the mirror.
“Yes sir.”
“You know the details of the job?”
“We’re heading for the Yokaitown deep-docks, but that was it.” The Administration always preferred giving info out piecemeal to prevent leaks, so no doubt Mr. Araki would fill him in.
“Shut the doors and buckle up.” Ray reached over to close the backdoors of the van, buckling in as the F.B.I. agents started to drive, and just as he expected Mr. Araki began to speak.
“We’re investigating the Old South Prince, a trader boat owned by a kappa by the name of Old South Sea. Supposedly he’s seen some evidence of suspicious activity, though there’s also been evidence he’s performing some the trafficking himself. Cages, large amounts of raw meat, and more. While we are not expecting trouble, there is something in the storage to help you.” Araki nodded to the metal storage box behind the front seats and Ray opened it up to find a small wooden charm of a fox head, two smooth brown crystals for the eyes.
“Sir, is this-”
“Yes. As Mr. Boothe already has his registered artifact-” Zanzibar made a displeased noise, “-this charm has been registered to you. It should allow you to cast magic easier.”
Ray was sure there was some further important, deeply impressive magical explanation attached to the charm, but right now he was just enjoying have an artifact of his own. He quickly tied the charm to the drawstring of his hoodie and he could already feel the extra power flowing through him... or maybe he was just giddy.
“Speaking of magic, your organization wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details. What are we walking into here?” The agent spoke up, and Araki answered.
“The deep-docks are the underground ports of Yokaitown, and home to the largest population of aquatic mythen in the U.S., at least the largest non-migratory population.”
“Also the place most of the crime happens.” Zanzibar chimed in, and Ray and Araki shot him a look while the agent raised a brow.
“That so?”
“Yep. It’s the place where all the smugglers hang out; if you need to find something, you’ll find it there.” Ray wanted to argue but Zanzibar wasn’t wrong, at least not entirely. Aquatic mythen had a distinct distrust of most land dwellers and a large part of that section of the city was underwater, so keeping an eye on the place was always difficult.
“Anything else I should know about?”
“Not really. Just don’t flash your badge or nothing, stay out of the water, and let us handle it.” The agent snorted.
“If you could handle it, I wouldn’t be down here.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“That’s classified.” Zanzibar rolled his eyes. Another point to Zanzibar, that was a good question. Normally the H.A. handled everything “in-house,” so the agent’s presence was strange, to say the least. Still, it wasn’t his place to question. The van trundled along until they reached the edge of Yokaitown and headed for one of the many “freeway” tunnels, yellow lights flickering overhead. Ray knew it would take some time to reach the docks, so he reached for his charm-
“So, how’s it feel to wear stolen valor?” Ray’s head whipped around in confusion to look at Zanzibar. “I still swear that should be my charm.”
“Boothe...” Araki glared at the younger man in the mirror. “You already have your boots and jacket.”
“I’m the one who did most of the work!”
One of Ray’s brows shot up but he let the comment slide. He wanted so badly to point out he was the one who actually stayed at the scene to file paperwork and report to the H.A., but this was the biggest job of his life and he couldn’t risk saying anything that made him seem unprofessional. Zanzibar didn’t seem to have that issue though, continuing to gripe and argue with Araki until they finally reached the deep-docks and a wave of scents hit them: sea salt, damp moss, and a funk no one could ever really place. Unlike the “sky” over Yokaitown the ceiling here was almost like a mix of blue sky and the dancing sunlight you’d see when underwater, much prettier compared the ramshackle wood buildings that dominated most of the bay the freeway led down to.
“...We’re not going to have to head underwater, are we?” Agent Woodbanks nodded to the section of the docks that kept descending deeper and deeper into the water and Araki shook his head.
“Take the right at the next exit and follow it, that’ll bring us to the docks we need.”
It was thankfully only a short ride to the docks, the van parked out of the way as the four filed out, Zanzibar stretching out as Ray looked about. Aquatic mythen milled about, largely kappa in sailor’s clothes, and the four found themselves moving towards the harbormaster’s office. One of the few stone buildings not dedicated to storage at the dock it was easy to spot with the massive wooden kraken on top of it, but as they got closer Araki turned around to Zanzibar and Ray. “You two stay outside while we speak with the harbormaster.”
“Oh cool, guard duty.” Zanzibar huffed but turned to watch the dock, Ray doing the same. It was only about a minute into their watch when Zanzibar spoke up. “So, feel like lending me that charm?”
“No.” Was the immediately reply.
“Oh come on, I earned it.” Ray took a breath and turned to look at Zanzibar.
“Did you?” Evidently his tone was harsher than intended as the other boy reeled back.
“I mean, yeah-”
“I helped in that fight while you were trying to reload, and I vouched for you despite stealing from that chef, and I was the one to handle all the paperwork after you ran off, like I usually am.” Ray realized how heated he was getting and took a breath. “I think...”
Ray paused, leaning to peer past Zanzibar, who took the pause to shake out of his stupor and poke Ray’s chest. “What, you think you’re better than me? You think just because you got hired on because your-”
“I think those kappa have shell carvings.” Zanzibar paused his rant and turned to follow Ray’s gaze. A number of kappa were milling near a rusted old boat covered in kelp, some with iron caps on their heads but it was one that wore a purple robe and had Chinese symbols carved into the scutes. “Gang members?”
“...No, no if that were the case, more would have them. Let’s see... “North-”” That was the only word the two needed to look at each other and move. Ray moved for the door while Zanzibar... moved towards the kappa. Ray quickly grabbed his jacket sleeve.
“What are you doing?”
“Our job. You get the others, I’m gonna have a little chat.” Zanzibar pulled his sleeve away and started walking towards the kappas. Ray looked between his partner and the door before pulling out a shikigami.
“Go warn the others.” Ray threw the paper doll to the door, and it slid under the door smoothly as he rushed to follow Zanzibar.
Zanzibar’s talks tended to not stay as talks for long...