12:00pm, Thursday the 9th October, 2132.
Naka-Sura Multinational was headquartered in a gargantuan structure in western Kanto known as the Hexagon. Consisting of six towers arrayed at the six points of its namesake shape, each tower was progressively taller than the last, the first sitting at an impressive 550 meters tall and the last reaching over an entire kilometer into the sky. Each one ended in a sharp tip, and from the distance they looked like black thorns trying to pierce the clouds.
“Do you know how many people they employ?” Asked Kato.
“Naka-Sura? I don’t know. A mil? Maybe two?” Greaves replied, her fingers swiping idly at a tablet showing her social media.
“10.3 million people. And that’s just in Japan.”
“Wooooooow,” Greaves replied, her sarcasm betraying her lack of interest.
“A hundred years ago that was more people than some countries had. Back when Kanto was still just Greater Tokyo, the entire population was only 40 million… Give or take. Hell, back then it was more people than New York had, or London.”
“Kato, I’m bored. Get to the point,” said Greaves.
“My point is that it’s a lot of people. An unimaginable number of people. Can you picture 10 million people stood in one place? Can you imagine the chaos that could erupt if even a fraction of 10 million employees were told to go out and kill their competitors?”
“Well they’d outnumber us, that’s for sure. But then again, we do have tanks.”
“I’m pretty sure they do too.”
The Hexagon was growing closer now, and they left the forest of buildings and holographic commercials behind them to drive along a leveled and flattened ground that surrounded it for nearly a kilometer in every direction. It was a security measure, a demilitarized zone that ensured nothing could get close without Naka-Sura seeing.
As they drove across it - the only vehicle to be doing so - Kato felt unimaginably conspicuous. All it would take was the single press of a button and Naka-Sura’s defenses would render them nothing more than a black stain to dirty the concrete.
Two checkpoints with armed security were set up in each of the four cardinal directions around the Hexagon - one checkpoint at the entrance to the flattened area, and another by the Hexagon itself. Kato’s car had automatically been flagged as a police vehicle and allowed to pass the first checkpoint, but both detectives knew that they had no authority to get past the second. All they could hope for was that Naka-Sura was willing to cooperate.
Kato’s car slowed to a halt in front of a concrete barrier with flashing lights and a ‘no entry’ holosign in deep, neon blue. Several fully-armoured security guards stood around them wielding rifles (which Kato noted were a newer model of the Katana assault rifle than the police had), and large auto-turrets scanned the area carefully. One guard wearing a black helmet approached the car, and Kato’s window slid down with an electronic whir.
“Clearance?” The man asked, his accent heavy and german.
Kato took out his police identification card, as did Greaves, and the guard looked at them and scanned. After a few seconds of silence, the guard spoke again. “How can we help you, detectives?”
“We’re here to speak to your security department about Naka-Sura Multinational security contractors who may have witnessed a murder,” Kato answered, quick and to the point. “If possible, we would like to speak to those contractors.”
The guard went silent again, his visor reflecting Kato’s car – a warped, elongated impression in the sunlight. No words were spoken for several seconds, but it was obvious someone was speaking to the guard inside his helmet. Most people those days had earpieces or buds which sat comfortably in the ear, but the wealthy and powerful could afford implants that stimulated the inner ear bones and were completely silent to eavesdroppers. Kato wondered which the guard had.
“I apologize, detectives,” said the guard, “but such a thing will be impossible at this time.”
“That’s bullshit,” Greaves snapped from Kato’s other side. “We’re detectives with the KMPD Serious Crimes division. You can’t just get in the way of us doing our jobs by claiming something is impossible.”
“Actually, I can,” the guard said. “Right now, we’re not allowing anyone to enter the Hexagon, even the police. As owners of this private property, Naka-Sura Multinational has the right to extend or deny an invitation of entry to whoever it pleases. Without a warrant, I’m afraid I must ask you to turn back the way you came.”
Greaves looked pissed. “You’re a ballsy fucker,” she swore, knowing as well as the guard did that a warrant in those circumstances would be almost impossible to get. She was about to throw a string of crude insults at him, but Kato raised his hand and stopped her.
“It’s true we can’t enter without a warrant, but we have the ID numbers of the men we wish to speak to. Naka-Sura Multinational, their employers and representatives, have exactly 24 hours to deliver these witnesses to the investigators, which are us, from the moment a request has been given, which was at 2:30am this morning. If Naka-Sura fails to comply with a witness request presented by Serious Crimes, then the company executives who made that decision could have charges brought against them for perverting the course of justice, amongst other things. And that… Well, that will get us a warrant,” explained Kato. The more he spoke, the more increasingly smug Greaves appeared.
But all the guard did was shrug at them. “A warrant to arrest those individuals, yes. Which Naka-Sura would hand over, leaving no legal standing to enter its property.”
Kato stared, genuinely surprised his tactic hadn’t worked. Still, there was still one thing he could try - pleading. “I’m not going to sit here and argue law all afternoon,” he said. “All we want is to ask some questions. That’s it! Your guys aren’t even suspects! Just help us out, will you?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“We will have them contact you, Detective Sergeant. Until then, please turn your vehicle around and drive away.”
Shocked, Kato wanted to argue again. But the guard was already turning and walking back to his post, and all Kato could do was watch as he and his partner were ignored.
“Un-fucking-believable,” muttered Greaves. “We’re being turned away at the door like plebs.”
Kato’s window rolled back up, and in defeat he selected the option on the dashboard to have the car take them back to the station. “We are plebs,” he told her. “And plebs aren’t allowed in the castle.”
As the car reversed, turned around and headed back through the first checkpoint, Greaves pulled up a small, clear device that resembled a smart-phone. “Positive ID came back on the other body,” she said, showing Kato the screen. “That old man was telling the truth. Fukase Keizo.”
Kato glanced at it but didn’t acknowledge, a non-reaction he often had when something was proven that he already knew. “On second thought, I’m heading home for some sleep,” he told her as the car slipped back into the shadows of the city’s skyscrapers. “Want me to drop you off at your place?”
“I guess so,” she replied. “Aren’t you heading back to brief the boss?”
“What for? To tell him we’ve got jack shit? There’s nothing for us to do there now until we either get lab results or can speak to those witnesses.”
“And the paperwork?”
“I can do that at home. Also, Greaves, did you notice back there that they really didn’t want anyone going in?”
Greaves looked at him strangely. “Did I notice? Yeah, I think I might have,” she said sarcastically.
“No, I mean they really didn’t want anyone going in. They couldn’t wait to get rid of us. They didn’t even take the IDs of the guys we want to speak to.”
“I guess they already knew who they were,” she replied. “Unless you’re trying to say they might have something more to do with it?”
Kato looked across at her, his silent face saying everything.
“Shit.”
7:42pm, Thursday the 9th October, 2132.
The darkness behind Aiden King’s eyes grew brighter with artificial light, but it was the feeling of being unable to move that finally woke him. Thick straps held his arms and legs down against an uncomfortable bed, and they pressed against his chest just enough to make his breathing restricted. His eyes opened to a harsh light above him, and for a moment he thought how the cream ceiling reminded him of a hospital room.
Someone pressed a needle into his flesh.
The stabbing pain was not enough for him to make an audible noise, but it brought him to attention. He couldn’t move his head to see the source of the pain, but it was definitely a needle, and he swore he could feel a liquid going into his arm.
“He’s awake,” a woman said to his side. He could see the white coat she wore, and her dark hair, but not her face.
“We should let them know,” said another voice belonging to a man. He could not see the man at all, as though he was purposefully standing out of view.
“Not yet,” the woman said. “I want a real blood sample. Somehow I can’t get one… It’s almost like he doesn’t bleed.”
“The doctors took blood samples earlier, didn’t they?”
“That wasn’t his. It belonged to the victim.”
"You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m a professional. I don’t kid.”
Aiden felt another sharp pain and wanted to open his mouth and tell her to stop, but he realized something was stopping him from speaking.
“Shit, still nothing,” the woman said.
“We have exactly five minutes,” added the male.
The woman leaned over him then and looked down into his eyes. She was in her mid-thirties and slim, and she was so close that Aiden could make out the screens of her purple contact lenses. “Then we’ll just have to skip to a flesh sample.”
Aiden suddenly struggled against his binds, and the woman leaned back from him and laughed. “His strength is returning quickly, it won’t be long until he’s able to escape. Do you think he’s like the others?”
“It seems that way. I always heard there were twelve. Are you done?”
“I’m done. We won’t get anything here.”
“Good. Let’s go,” the male said, then he walked off towards the door.
The woman paused. “Hang on, I at least want to give this one a chance.”
“Do what you want. I’ll wait outside.”
A door opened then closed, and suddenly the woman was leaning over Aiden again.
“They don’t know your name, or who you are, but they have your face now. Avoid public places, avoid cameras and identity checkpoints,” she told him quickly, looking down into his eyes. “You are in Fukaya General Hospital. Outside and down the hall, a police escort from the KMPD guard the entrance to this room because you were found unconscious on a near-deceased woman with grievous neck wounds. Why you didn’t wake until we woke you, I don’t know. In a moment, I’m going to leave this room and you will most likely never see me again. Several minutes after I leave, this hospital will be invaded by mercenaries under the guise of performing a terrorist attack. Their real goal, however, is to kidnap you. It is my professional opinion that you do not want either of those things to happen, and so you should do absolutely everything in your power to stop them.”
Aiden’s mind was racing now, and equal parts fear and adrenaline were filling his veins. He opened his mouth again but no words came out, and the woman looked at him curiously until a thought suddenly came to her. She pressed her finger gently against his lips to shush him, then with her other hand she quickly pulled a tiny chip from his throat. “Speech blocker. Didn’t want you alerting anyone,” she explained.
“Help me!” Aiden hissed in fear, his voice barely more than a whisper despite his effort to shout. He struggled against his straps, trying desperately to break them. “Let me out!”
The woman stepped back from him, ignoring his request. “I don’t know what you are, kid, but you definitely drew the short straw. Maybe you’ll at least take some of them out with you before you go.”
“Wait, don’t leave!” Aiden begged, but it was too late. The woman was already out of view, had already opened and shut the door and left him alone in that bright hospital room.
Thoughts and questions began to fill him. He was going to be attacked? How would he get out? Where was Nami and was she alright? Why couldn’t he remember being found? What was happening to him? Everything was so confusing, and going so quickly, and he had no idea who anyone was or what anyone wanted with him – or what he was supposed to do.
He needed to stop. He needed to calm down, control his breathing, and think of a way out of his situation. He had always been smart, his mother used to say, but what good was that if he wasn’t using it? He began to breathe slowly, and examine his situation.
His first and most immediate problem was the hospital bed. He couldn’t run, couldn’t defend himself, while his movement was so restricted by the straps that held him. He couldn’t move his head to see them, but by shifting himself he could begin to feel what they were; thick, heavy… And possibly leather? But leather was old and hard to get, so more than likely it was an advanced polymer made to resemble it. That was bad – leather was tough to break anyway, and a polymer would be even tougher. The buckles then? Could he undo them somehow? But the only way he could feasibly get his arm free was to break something, and that wasn’t an option.
Shit. If the woman was right, he was fast running out of time.
He tried the bed next, tried to jerk his entire weight to get the bed to move. If he could get it to hit something, get something sharp to fall, perhaps he could cut his way free. But that didn’t work either; the bed was too large, too heavy. Even if it had wheels the breaks were clearly active, and it left him stranded in the center of the room.
There was nothing he could do, was there? No proactive action he could take to escape his nightmarish dream. He was forced to await his fate. They were coming… He could feel it in his flesh, feel an ache of danger in his bones. Every second they were getting closer to him, and they were going to find him gift-wrapped for their convenience.
There was nothing proactive he could do. Only reactive.
He took a final, deep breath to calm himself, and a second later the ceiling light cut out and left him in darkness. He couldn’t control his situation, so his only option was to take advantage of it.
He closed his eyes like he had never woken.