Kazin

The room is dark and fraught with tension. Two captains of the Yamda clan, Ganzama and Kala, glare across the table at one another beneath the dim light of a single, hanging lamp. The stuffy light tires my eyes. Dust specks dance down onto the map unfurled across the tabletop. Soldiers of both sides have shuffled closer to their captains to provide support if need be. I myself hang immediately to Kala’s rear, hoping with all my heart that my path to revenge does not end before it even begins.

Ganzama is a tall guy, the tallest among us in the two divisions. He has long, black hair, half of which is tied in a ponytail, the other half cascading past his shoulders. One of his eyes is bioEnhanced and glows a foreboding green. His bare arms have been bioEnhanced likewise, the plates scattered down to the tops of his hands. He clenches them into fists while he speaks, making his displeasure known to all of us gathered.

“If you want extra protection money to line your pockets, go bother your own businesses, not mine.” The lines on his brow crease as he says this, into deep, darkling lines. “I’ll be sure to alert the Commander of your intent to work territory not your own.”

Kala smirks. “Who do you think sent me?”

Ganzama’s scowl grows deeper. “And why would the Commander do that?”

Kala takes me by the arm and thrusts me forward so that I’m eye to eye with Ganzama. “This kid needs to begin his training in the field, according to Norbu's wishes. And you’re the only captain who has not been paying the full amount of protection money owed the clan. There is, therefore, a job to complete.”

“My territories are the ones which directly border the Kargu’s,” Ganzama growls. His eye blazese green as he says this, and he grits his teeth. “The situation has been…troublesome.” I’m not sure if I am the only one who notices, but I feel that Ganzama is hiding the true reason for his inability to pay the required taxes, though I can’t discern why. I glance nervously from Ganzama to his soldiers, hoping that they are all trustworthy, loyal soldiers of Yamda.

Kala tilts her head back and gives a ruthless smile. “Then what better time to collect your dues than when reinforced by my division? Surely the businesses will happily cough up the protection fees you’re owed.”

Ganzama angrily flicks his gaze towards me. “How will cajoling my territory for fees help this kid in his training? They’re just business owners, not fighters.”

“How he trains is our business, and our business only. By Norbu’s command,” Kala says with a steely voice. “And not your business to question.”

Ganzama stands up to his full height—he is a giant among men. His arms ripple beneath the shadowy light, and flashes of blue and green leap through the length of the bioEnhancements riveted to his limbs. “If this wasn’t Norbu’s own command, I would have kicked your ass, Kala.” There’s a steel plate paneled across his chest, just below the collarbone. Over one hundred notches blaze a bright and terrible white as he speaks.

Kala allows Ganzama this apparent show of authority. We are, after all, within his territory—shaming him would not do. She tilts her head slightly, but she spices her deference with a coy smile so that the draught is not too sweet. “I thank you for your acquiescence, Ganzama. Norbu will be pleased.”

Ganzama grunts and waves to the soldiers at his rear. They begin shuffling out of the meeting room. There are nearly fifty of their number. All of them are dressed in black suits; the ones with bioEnhancements to their faces begin fitting flesh-colored plates over themselves to conceal the evidence of their illegal procedures.

As they’re leaving, I lean close to Kala. “What do the notches on Ganzama’s chest mean?”

“That’s his level in the clan,” Kala replies. I stare at her quizzically, and she nods. “I see the Commander hasn’t taught you about that yet. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get your first notch before the night is done.”

Not sure whether I should be happy about the revelation or not, I only nod back in reply.

Kala turns and waves in the air, signaling for our division to trail after Ganzama’s. “Let’s go, assholes. Make sure your hilts are hidden well in your belts and that your cracklers are off. Binzo, your face-plate's crooked, dumbass. Korsu, make sure your crackler is off. I don’t want fried balls like last time. Sora, get your gunmen to set photonBlasters to red. No lethal radiation, understood? We don’t need the constabulary on our asses for weaponsHacking.”

Kala stays behind to watch as the soldiers of her division stream out of the room, so I choose to wait with her. She inspects each of them as they pass. I notice that our division is dressed much differently than Ganzama’s—except for the fact that all their clothes were black, his was dressed in a way that commanded both fear and respect. Anyone who saw them could infer that they were Joryoku, and that it would be best to avoid crossing paths.

Our division, on the other hand, is a ragtag group. Some are dressed as Ganzama’s are—in business suits—but others are dressed like Kala, in jeans or loose-fitting pants; some are even wearing hoodies. I wonder why this is, until a guy in a bulky sweatshirt passes by, and I see the strap of a polycarbonate breastplate peeking out from beneath his collar.

Kala notices my looks. “Ganzama’s guys are meant to intimidate. Intimidation is the best weapon when you’re collecting protection fees. Our division is made up of strike troopers, meant to blend in and remain hidden until the moment we hit the enemy.” She takes me by the hand. “Come on, no time to linger anymore.”

I follow the division out of the chamber, into the sprawling warehouse that serves as a sort of fort. On the way here, I had asked Kala where the energyTower was located, but she had refused to reveal that information to me. That, she said, was only reserved for the captains, lieutenants, and the Commander.

Ganzama is waiting near the warehouse entrance. He seems more sulky rather than angry.

“Where to first, Kala?”

“You know Tobashinta District better than I do, Ganzama.” Kala lights herself a cigarette. “Just keep us out of Kargu territory.”

Ganzama nods. “Let’s go!” he roars. His division assembles behind him, and ours muster to Kala’s rear, with me at her right hand. Ganzama heaves the warehouse doors open with both hands, leading us right into an alleyway. We follow him out of the corridor and into the blazing neon forest that is the neighborhood of Kyando.

“Wow,” I mutter, half in awe, half in revulsion. Scratch that. Half in awe, half in glee.

“Yeah?” Kala says loudly, nodding her head to the thumping music. My eardrums ring in synchrony. “You thought Shirumo was bad? Welcome to Kyando, pride of Tobashinta District, center of culture of Handata City!”

Huge buildings line both sides of the street, filled to the brim with eateries and bars and other less respectable establishments. They are all blasting different music for a symphony of cacophony, but none of their noise can trump the thumping from beneath the ground we walk as the bass of the underground nightclubs conducts their patrons into a rave of crazed debauchery. Drunks are reeling in the streets, windmills all, screaming and laughing and vomiting. Hypercars have descended onto the road, their windows down, canopies gone, drivers and riders leaning in an overstated leisure within their seats, betraying their intent to boast their wealth in attracting the passing pedestrians. Lines of revelers wait outside the more popular clubs—they all look like models, and they all draw a gasp. When I begin to think I see the end of the street, more roads unfurl to the sides, revealing more and more roadways of the same kind and caliber.

Something I do notice, however, is that the Yamda-controlled area appears to be in high alert—pairs or trios of our soldiers are standing sentry at entrances to buildings or concealed within the shadows of alleys, watching, waiting for a potential Kargu attack.

But it’s hard to care too much when the atmosphere is this bacchanal.

The partiers don’t even look at us, nor do they avoid us—though Ganzama commands attraction. It is as if they are accustomed to the scene of fifty black-clad Joryoku and fifty hooligans marching down the streets. There are pairs of constables here and there on patrol, and they give us a wary glance or two; but they have no grounds to arrest us. We have not committed any crimes. Yet.

I feel powerful, surrounded by my people.

“Wow,” I say again as we pass a nightclub lately in vogue, my eyes so wide they might pop out of their sockets.

“Maybe later, Kazin,” Kala says, taking my arm. “Your first round is on me after our victory.”

I smile like an idiot at a passing group of girls, dressed so scantily that even the other soldiers in my division do a double take. That is why we are all doubly surprised when Kala suddenly comes to a stop.

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Ganzama has reached his destination. He is waiting for us outside a building of seven stories. The entire thing is a single establishment—to be more precise, from the neon banners on its sides, it’s a host and hostess bar. Holograms of ethereal men and women, dressed with the intent to provoke a blush, smile and wave from windows to draw in potential customers.

Kala steps next to Ganzama and looks up at the signs. “You’re telling me that Riko didn’t pay up this month?”

Ganzama nods curtly. “Go talk to him yourself. See if you can get him to cough up fifty thousand links. That’s how much he owes us.”

Kala turns. “The rest of you stay out here while I check the place out with Ganzama. Try not to look so threatening. Riko needs his business. Kazin, you’re with me.”

I stumble along behind Ganzama and Kala as they enter the club. We pass through the doors, and immediately I’m in a new world. I’ve never seen its like, nor have I ever been in the presence of so many attractive people. The girl at the front, tall and lithe with curves in all the right places, tilts her head at Ganzama when he enters.

“Where’s Riko?” Ganzama says with a nod of greeting.

“He’s unavailable at the moment,” the girl says apologetically.

“He’s never unavailable for me,” Ganzama grunts. “Take me to him.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the girls responds, lowering her eyes.

Ganzama glares at her, then his eyes widen as a terrible realization blooms on his face. “The Kargu are here, aren’t they,” he whispers.

The girl casts her eyes up at Ganzama, then back down again.

“How many?” Ganzama hisses.

The girl combs her hair behind her ear, but not in the way people normally do—she goes through the motions with three explicit fingers.

Three Kargu.

“Shit!” Ganzama growls. He whirls back at Kala. “We can take ‘em.” He peers back at me. “You stay out of our way.”

Kala crosses her arms. “Yes, we can take them. And Kazin comes with us.”

“Whatever, I don’t have time to argue,” Ganzama says. “Office?” he asks the girl.

She nods timidly.

Ganzama bolts to the marble stairwell at the opposite wall. We follow him. He’s bounding up the steps five at a time, bioCharging each of his strides. We’re at the top floor in no time. Ganzama hurtles down a long corridor lined with doors. I look through some of the unscreened windows as I try to keep up. There are girls and guys partying inside, drinking alcohol, engaging in cybernetic narcotics, smoking, singing karaoke, half-dressed, sweaty; I can smell the revelry and hormones in the air.

Ganzama winds through the hallways, and soon we see a set of double doors looming at the end of our road. Ganzama throws himself against the doors and crashes through them. Kala and I follow immediately behind.

There is only one person inside, faced away from us, his eyes on the wall above the desk. He's staring at the paintings and engravings which hang there. He turns abruptly at the racket our entrance has caused.

I recognize him.

His hair is messy, and a single eye begins glowing red as he scans our faces. When he sees me, his face is one of confusion at first, then he begins laughing wildly, his expression lifting into one of glee.

“NOW THERE’S A SURPRISE!" Baku roars. “KAZIN!”

I cringe and take a step backwards.

Ganzama shoots me a glance. “He your friend?” He clenches his fists, wondering if he’s got to fight me too.

I shake my head.

“Akato, that slimy bastard!” Baku reels backwards from his wild laughter. “Our splicers will have a field day with that one when the Commander hears of this! And you, Kazin! With the Yamda! This keeps getting better and better!"

Akato? What is he talking about?

“Well, it’s been fun, Yamda swine, but time for me to go now,” Baku says.

The events begin rolling in slow motion. Baku bioCharges his legs and bolts towards the window. I’m in disbelief that he is thinking to jump from such a height. But Ganzama is bioEnhanced as well. Before Baku covers half the distance, he is bowling towards the far wall from Ganzama's bioCharged tackle.

Kala bolts into action. Her twin cracklers are out, and she has turned them on. Her arms tremble as she fights to keep the bars under control while the blue electricity leaps and pounces from their ends. She stalks towards the site of the brawl.

Baku has pulled free from Ganzama. He is standing against the wall, fists up, eyes glowing. Ganzama’s hands are spread out to block Baku’s escape.

“Where’s Riko?” Ganzama demands.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Baku spits.

Before the words are fully out of Baku's mouth, Ganzama’s at his side in a bioCharged lunge, his foot sailing towards Baku’s head.

But Baku’s fast too, and he has a bioEnhanced eye. He ducks under Ganzama's foot. As he stands back up, he unleashes a bioCharged uppercut right into the inside of Ganzama’s thigh. There’s a burst of light as Baku’s chips are lit afire in a testament to his power. Ganzama is thrown into the air. Then, as gravity pulls him down, Baku leaps and prepares to bring a fist down onto Ganzama’s chest to crush it as they land.

Baku's fist thrusts downwards, but in a flash, Kala has joined them, and her cracklers meet Baku’s face. The Kargu member is thrown against the wall, his face smoldering, the red light in his eye blinking weakly.

“Shit,” he groans. “Crackler. Now that’s cheating in a fistfight.”

“Creative winning,” Kala allows. She brings a crackler down against Baku’s neck to render him unconscious.

Ganzama drags himself onto his good leg, but topples over again. “Little Kargu shattered my plates,” he groans.

“Nothing Damera can’t fix,” Kala says. “Come on, Kazin. Help me carry our prisoner. You need help too, Ganzama?”

“Screw off,” Ganzama groans. “I can carry myself. There’s a basement where we can interrogate the little shit.”

Kala nods. “Alright.” She gives me a steely look. “Next time use that metal body of yours, instead of standing around like a weakling.”

I nod as I stumble over to Baku. “Sorry,” I mumble. I look down at the Kargu’s limp form. My head is a jumble. Akato? What is he talking about? I find that I am almost scared to touch him for fear of waking him, but then I remember to remind myself.

I am no longer Kazin Moyashino of Minzyu Secondary. I am Kazin of the Yamda. I am Kazin of the metal body. My body has been reinforced and made metal. Now all I must do is steel my resolve.