Big in Japan

Walking the streets of Tokyo was like walking the streets of a bright, colorful future where everyone was Asian. That is what Clayton Wray thought while he wondered into a corner store. The store was a Japanese equivalent of 7-11. Clayton could not read the sign to figure out what it was called; not that it mattered. All he wanted was a Pepsi; just one Pepsi. That was something the store could not offer. From the looks of things, they were sold out. He would have to settle for something he considered an inferior product. He would have to settle for Coke. He wondered when they started selling it in green glass bottles again, and if that meant that American love still existed. Nah. It was probably just a Japanese thing. He brought the glass bottle to the counter and begrudgingly shelled out 120 yen for it.

He exited the store at the same time as a young male entered. They both stopped awkwardly at the store’s only entrance. The teen’s purple hair, elaborate make up, and clothing, made him stand out even in Tokyo. He stood in complete contrast to Clayton’s plain haircut, simple black sport coat, and dark jeans. Clayton attempted to move past him. The youth cut him off and spoke.

“You wanna know how I know you’re an American?”

Clayton could feel the insult coming, “Is it the fact that I’m well dressed and good looking, or is it just my winning smile?”

The kid arrogantly crossed his arms, “Hardly. It’s because you bought Coke. Only idiot Americans buy that. Even when it’s been proven that you only like it because you’re told you do. Ever heard of the Pepsi Paradox? Google it sometime.”

In Japan less than one day and already being insulted by walking Anime. Clayton could not help but chuckle, “Whatever, J-pop, maybe the store is just out of Pepsi.”

The fact that the store was out of his soft drink of choice seemed to infuriate J-pop. It was either that or being called “J-pop”. Clayton could not tell. The kid turned red under his white foundation, “What?! Are you serious? I’m not J-pop! It’s called ‘Visual Kei’, asshole. Google it sometime.”

“Well, in America, we just call it ‘gay’. Google it sometime.” Clayton smirked as he pushed past the kid, and crossed the street to the crowded train platform.

Some Japanese law firm was holding some files that someone was willing to pay to have destroyed, so he was going to go in and scope the place out by pretending to be a confused American in legal trouble. What could possibly go wrong?

The anonymous employer was not specific as to what they were, and even went as far as to tell him not to look at them. Clayton was smart enough not to pry; not with the kind of money they were offering. If they had not offered so much, he would have turned it down right away. He was supposed to be taking steps towards the other side of the law, after all. Meeting with the Phantoms in Chicago about that could wait. This was going to be his last ride.

He shuffled past the crowd to wait for the train. Hopefully it would be going the right direction.

Bright lights illuminated over the cold ocean. Plane rides always seem to be time distorting. Maybe flying from a new country to an ancient nation did something to her. Or maybe the movement of the plane keeping the time of day in a temporal static state made her feel as though time stood still. Bliss sat back in the over sized brown, cloth chair, and comfortably rested her head against the back rest of the corridor.

In her month of absence from New York many events transpired that she needed to act on appropriately. A good deal of the items she summed up as irrelevant or issues best left up to Ashley, but when she called to ask Ashley to go to Japan to collect on this issue all she got was a stern repose about how much of a loser slacker she had become.

After a horrific ordeal left her forever scarred and with new powers that she hardly wanted even less than her old ones, she found that Ashley wanted to part ways with her. Bliss moved into her apartment a little over a year ago, and ever since failed to get a job, failed to pay for anything, got her apartment listed by the FBI as a potential cyber threat, and ruined most if not all of her attempts at a relationship with any guy. Sadly, those were only the things Ashley knew about. Not being entirely cold hearted, Ashley moved all of Bliss's things to an apartment down the block from her penthouse and even furnished it with a couch and a bed.

They did not talk in person. Bliss found a note on the door and found her key did not work. Her telekinesis was taken from her so she could no longer open locks, and breaking it with ice would probably make things worse, so Bliss simply grabbed her the mail that brought on the conversation and left. With the little money in her bank account, Bliss bought a one way trip to Japan to see the law firm that would award her the rights to her trust fund. For years she secretly and not so secretly hoped her dad would die so she could inherit the rights to that trust fund. As that thought passed through her mind she began to understand why Ashley would feel that way about her.

The plane sat down in the land of the rising sun, and Bliss came home to a land she long forgot. Honestly she could not remember if she even had family there. Her mother died when she was young, and her father never told her anything, so who knows what she would discover at that lawyer firm. Lights surrounded the grids of the streets. They flickered in bright colors that annoyed Bliss. She wondered why colors would give her such a terrible feeling, but this past month, or maybe it had been longer, she just hated everything about the world around her. Her family was gone, she could not talk to her best, and possibly only friend, and now she needed a new place to live. This check better give her what she needed to simply crawl away for a while.

With a slightly more professional look to it, the twenty story law firm sat within the shadow of the towering super scrapers of the Tokyo skyline. Maybe she could let them know size was not everything. Even in a land of her own ethnic people Bliss felt a little standoutish. For one, her brown hair seemed to contrast most of the darker individuals that made up the populace, and for two, she did not speak Japanese. Nor did she bother to bring any kind of translator device with her to break the barrier. "Poop." She said as she hugged the tights that ran past her knees, bring her legs up to her chest. The electric yellow and pink shoes sat with the ruffles of her pleaded skirt falling over them, while her hoodie kept the form of her hips solid in the looseness of the skirt.

Before taking her seat she signed her name into the ledger in English. She ignored the requests for her to come to see them that she clearly heard, and just kept her head staring before her. She felt more alone than ever in this room that so desperately wanted her attention.

Tokyo, Japan.

The second largest city in the world, after New York City. Boasting a population of 30 million, the city has remained the place where Eastern and Western culture meets in an odd mix. Japan had reluctantly loosened anti-immigration laws slightly after the 2011 Earthquake, and around a million foreigners, generally from the USA or China settled in right away. Nearly all of them invariably went to Tokyo, bringing Western culture with them. This had also loosened racist attitudes to other races by the Japanese, though it still exists in mild cases. Tokyo is considered to be a must-see place for tourists exploring the East, though some of the older Japanese are slightly disapproving of them, or full-out hatred in some, rare, cases. Japan has remained one of the most dynamic powers in the East and the World, and Tokyo has always been in the center of this power.

Sachin was now in Tokyo.

The reason was rather simple. He had been on a game show, a rather simple one where you had to answer questions and then if you had the highest score, you got a vacation to Tokyo. Sachin had been recruited into it by some guy on the street who effectively said "You want to go to Tokyo?" After he gave a nervous nod, the man said "Fantastic! Come onto our game show!"

He had won, and now he was in Tokyo. He had just arrived here a few hours ago, and was going to his hotel room. In order to get there, he needed to take the train.

Massive tourism spot as well, as well as a business and economic center, so thousands of foreigners come in and out every week. Due to the highly-trained police, but even more due to Japanese culture, crime was not common. It was safe to walk the streets of Tokyo at near midnight without fear of being killed or robbed. Or both. The Japanese themselves generally kept to themselves, and rarely talked to others, especially foreigners, while walking down the streets. Many foreigners themselves did strike up conversations, to the mild disapproval of the Japanese themselves. Contrary to popular belief, the Japanese were not insane anime loons, but a culture of general restraint and quiet. Note the fact it's 'general' restraint and quiet.

Sachin kept in mind the 'general' fact as he walked past twenty schoolgirls with blue hair, giggling and speaking in rapid Japanese. The Indian kid knew Japanese to a limited extent, but those words completely flew over his head. He just walked along to the train station.

He sat down on a bench standing next to an American man. Sachin pulled out his map. His hotel was not too far from some Japanese law firm. Shouldn't be tough to find then. Of course, Sachin had a horrible sense of direction and would probably end up going south after someone explicitly said 'North' over twenty times.

The Indian man decided to pull out his notebook and start sketching while he waited for his train.

Someone sat down on the bench next to Clayton. The kid clearly was not Japanese. It probably meant that he spoke English, and it probably meant that he sat next to him for the comfort of being near another foreigner like himself that he could communicate with. Clayton always hated that. No matter what country he was in, there was always at least one lame tourist the likes of which he would never have spoken to in any other situation that always tried to get all buddy-buddy with him over the fact that they were both apparently tourists. Clayton was always sure they had nothing in common and nothing to be friends about, but that type of person always forced awkward conversation on him anyway. To his surprise, the guy said nothing to him. Clayton counted it as the day’s first blessing.

The guy looked like he spent the majority of his time on the internet, debating the fictional histories of sci-fi characters. He looked like he knew what “Post-Crisis continuity” meant. Clayton was sure they had nothing in common and that he had nothing to say to him. Still, the way the guy sat there quietly sketching away at something had him curious as to what he was so focused on drawing. Clayton caught a glimpse at what Sachin was working on over his shoulder. The guy was apparently some kind of pervert. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” The words just slipped out somehow, despite the fact that he was hardly surprised.

Thankfully, the train arrived. Clayton was quick to board it, and so was everyone else. The rush of people into the crowded train filled the car from wall to wall, and forced him elbow to elbow with the Super Virgin sketch artist. He brought his palm down slowly across his face from forehead to chin. This was going to be a very long train ride.

"...and to my daughter..." A glasses-framed lawyer read aloud the will pertaining to the Fokukama estate. The lines on his forehead cringed under the balding wave that parted the hair to the sides of head. A few elderly family members flanked the walls of the small office. Books stuffed into the shelves of the wall; Bliss gazed over the calligraphy to try and identify what the symbols meant while the lawyer continued on in Japanese. He finally caught the attention of Bliss with his words that brought her back to the room. "Um...I don't know how to put this..." Bliss rested her chin on her hand and lowered her gaze.

"Just tell me what he's leaving me." She knew the content of the letter could not contain anything that would benefit her. But, her mother may have left her something before she died, and that gave Bliss enough reason to fly out to Japan and try her best to make it through the legal proceedings.

"Well your mother established a college fund for you, but that doesn't translate to money..." The lawyer kept his eyes down at the document before him.

"Why doesn't it give me money?" The wood of chair slid along the smooth floor. She moved up in posture to proceed with her questions.

"This will leaves you nothing other than a rather harsh statement that I will not reiterate." The language escaped the relatives, but filled them in on what was happening.

"Does it say I'm a disappointment?" A lack of amusement hung in her voice.

"Yes." The answer came after she knew it.

"Great." She surveyed the room full of people that came to acquire the Fokukama estate. "What's this lady getting?" Bliss pointed to an elderly woman next to her.

"I don't know if I should..."

"That estate had ten million. Where is that money going?" Bliss looked around the room at people who may or may not be related to her. It really did not matter to her; she wanted that money and she was set on getting it for herself.

"I really don't..." Bliss stopped listening after really.

"Cool." Bliss stood to her feet and walked out he door. The estate contained ten million dollars and Bliss would get that money.

The first five minutes of the train ride were extremely awkward, and remained awkward for the next five minutes after that, though saying that is effectively like saying "After being stabbed, the body remained dead. And after that it stayed dead. Because that's what dead bodies do. Staying dead."

Sachin was wondering just how much of his drawing the other man had seen. He really did need to make sure he kept his drawings hidden at all times...you never knew who'd try to look at them...then again, why on Earth was this other American man even looking at the drawings?

What a pervert Sachin thought, mentally adjusting the breast size on Wonder Woman, and resolving to sketch that when he could. Honestly, have some standards. Don't look at other people's porn. Get your own, the Internet is there for you to use it. Rule 34 and shit.

So Sachin just waited another minute or so, and when the awkwardness was so thick that you could metaphorically cut it with a knife, and the metaphorical awkwardness vultures were coming to feed upon the awkwardness while avoiding each other's gaze, coughing and occasionally making comments on their family, Sachin spoke.

"So, err, you from the States too?" the Indian boy (he was 21, but he sure as hell did not seem it. Most became men after entering college, but Sachin was still 'boy'.) "Or, you know, the rice country. Like, Beikoku. Which means rice country. Cause the US was considered rich. So that's where the rice came from. And that's why it was called the rice country."

The metaphorical awkwardness vultures settled down, now making occasional conversation about the weather while uncomfortably shuffling around. Sachin made a mental note to include awkwardness vultures in his comics somehow.

Speaking of comics, he had an interesting encounter with Gracie in the Windy City. And an even more interesting one with 'Sophia'- Sachin resisted a shudder- in New York. Perhaps he was in Japan so he could get away from the problems he had made in the good old United States of America. After all, Japan was a safe country with a high life expectancy rate, low crime, and great tourism. And it had the lowest amount of sex of any country in the world, so he wouldn't be alone here. In other words, how could this vacation to Japan possibly go wrong?

The awkwardness vultures were joined by the metaphorical jinx hawks.

It seemed that the pervert was both a fountain of useless information and one of those tourists that Clayton hated. “Yep.” was his only reply. The two stood silent, awkward, and uncomfortably close for most of the train ride from that point on.

As the train continued down the tracks Clayton came to the realization that he would be entering the law firm with roughly one third of a plan. It was not like the building would be very well guarded during business hours; it was a lawfirm that had nothing to hide. Still, it would be nice to have a lookout incase the man whose office he would be invading came back from lunch early. That would be an awkward confrontation. Clayton began to see Sachin value. His stop was coming really soon. If he wanted a lookout, he would have to act quickly. He needed a convincing lie. “Um, look, I work for… and, your country ne…” What was he doing? The kid’s look of confusion said all he needed to hear. “Look, man, wanna make a hundred dollars?” The look on Sachin’s face shifted from one kind of confusion to another, more revolted sort. Clayton interrupted before he could speak. “NOT LIKE THAT! All you need to do is stand outside a building for a couple minutes, and maybe talk to some Japanese guy. It’ll be the easiest money you ever make. I swear.”

The train pulled to a stop. “Well, this is our stop. Now or never.” He stepped out of the train, and waited for a response.

Sachin stood awkwardly next to the other man, clearly sensing he'd probably be beat up or something if he continued speaking more about the fascinating aspect of Japanese culture and language, and how rice related to it. Or his essay detailing the economic and political relationship between Japan, Korea, China and the United States in the form of a drawing. That drawing had actually been banned in the People's Republic of China, and was, for some reason, highly viewed in the Republic of China. It had gotten rather famous as a memetic picture, despite the fact it was classified as porn. Sachin had seen it be used in a college as a professor used it for a serious discussion.

Sachin's disorganized and rambling thoughts were snapped back to reality when the other man started talking to him. First the Indian boy looked with confusion as the American man started talking about working for his country, and then just offered a hundred dollars.

Sachin's face was disgusted. This man truly was a pervert! Honestly, Sachin had standards. He opened his mouth to give the man a piece of his mind, but was interrupted before he could.

He considered the offer. As business offers went, it wasn't bad...he didn't make much cash anyway....

The train stopped, and he nodded. "Deal." he said. He only started considering the fact this was probably something illegal after he had said 'yes'. Ah well. A hundred dollars was a lot in Japan.

7815 yen. his mind said.

The kid was willing to help out for a very small fee. It was the first good news Clayton received all day, and more than likely the last he would receive all month. “Smart kid. Okay, all you have to do is stand outside of a building and look out for this guy” He withdrew a faded Polaroid of a balding, heavyset, Japanese man. “This is Ken Yorimoto. He’s a lawyer and a friend of mine. See, he doesn’t know I’m here yet, and I wanna surprise him with a prank, because if there’s one thing Mr. Yorimoto is known for, it’s his practical jokes, so I figure why not play one on him. Right?” He had no way of knowing what kind of sense of humor the grumpy man in the picture had, but Clayton was sure this would be one prank Yorimoto would not find amusing “He shouldn’t show up, but if he does just stall him for a couple minutes. For a hundred bucks, I’m sure you can handle it.” Clayton removed the sunglasses that hung around his shirt collar. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the lenses before putting them on. He wished he had time for a disguise, but his cliché mysterious employer had him on a deadline, and he did not have any on the ready. The dark glasses would have to be enough.

Within minutes they arrived at the lawfirm. Clayton caught site of a particularly bitter looking young woman exiting in their direction. He knew what kind of thoughts she was sure to inspire in his comrade. He stopped dead in his tracks and raised a hand to stop Sachin. “Ah. No distractions, kid. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with her.” He opened the raised hand to reveal a fifty dollar bill. “Half now. You’ll get the rest if you don’t mess this up.” He entered the building in a hurry. The sooner he got in, the better.

He entered the building and headed straight towards receptionist. He began his racist charade before she even had the chance to greet him. “Yeah. Hi. I am heeereee to seeee Yorimoto.” He purposely slowed his speech down and illustrated his speech with hand gestures. He surprised himself with just how much he sounded like the men he was imitating.

“Mister Yorimoto is not here right now, sir. Would you like to set up an appointment?” There was a slight twinge of frustration in the receptionist’s voice, though she remained polite.

“Yeah. No. Look here, babe, I’m here representing CLEMENT INDUSTRIES. You know what that means? It means I don’t need an appointment. My time is pretty fucking valuable. You tell him I’m here, and I’ll go wait in his office. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll get here.” His words were sharp, loud, and covered in venom. He felt bad talking to the girl like that. “Is that his office?” He pointed to the door down the hall.

The receptionist seemed intimidated. She simply nodded.

“Wonderful.” He stormed off into the room. Luckily, the door was unlocked. Clayton figured he did not have much time. Either Yorimoto would get back or some kind of security would show up. He made way to the wood carving behind the desk. Yorimoto picked the most obvious place in the world for a wall safe. The safe was at least top of the line, and electronically locked. That meant Clayton would have to make use of a device he owned but never really quite liked. He was never really technologically inclined. He withdrew the device from his pocket and attached it to the safe. Numbers began to appear on the small screen in random order. Soon it would send a current through the safe which would short it out and unlock it. Then, something that never quite happened before, happened. The screen of the device flashed red and began to smoke, and then everything went black throughout the building. Spectacular

As Bliss stepped from the stairwell to the hallway two things happened. The first came in the form of an angry sounding exchange in English when Bliss moved to open the door. She stepped down the antechamber and followed the long parallels of the wall towards the receptionist's desk. She seemed noticeably disturbed, but not enough to completely disregard the need to put on a nice face for the clients. "Bad day?" Bliss asked walking past her. Her tone could hardly relay whether she asked a question or gave a statement.

Bliss ducked into central hub of the building. With a clear connection to the building's servers Bliss could enact what she planned since she walked out of the discouraging inheritance meeting. The money would never leave the secure location of the bank; a figure would sit within the haunted confines of the memory banks that they called a secure server. Bliss would merely pull an Indiana Jones and grab the idol and replace it with a bag of sand that kept the guardians at bay.

As her fingers strolled through the keys to get this operation ready to take place, she prepared a resting place for the money to sit while she could think of a more permanent place for it to go. She flipped to the terminal banking page that Ashley used and interchanged the coding to slip into a backdoor to Ashley's account. Bliss would simply run the money through monetary exchange as a channel to get the money away from the security of the firm and into a more familiar place of interest. Before the transaction could finish the demodulation, Bliss would terminate the exchange and send the money to a secure money source ran by hackers that she remembered from college. With the demodulator acting as a channel and not a receiver it would exonerate Ashley from any wrong doing while taking the money for Bliss.

What could go wrong? That other thing. As Bliss got the money moving she prepared to terminate the line and send it over to the new demodulator that would safely rest with hackers. It was safe because Bliss could rewrite their entire site and removed the money before they even knew she put it there; this money would get rerouted several times before she ever set it in one place for safety. But, before she could pull that critical plug to safely pull the money from incriminating Ashley the power surged. Light permeated through the glass windows. Shadows cast over the room with bars of light breaking across Bliss's face. "Fucksucker" Her laptop retained the charge, but with the power going out the building's private servers crashed as well.

Light bathed her face as she searched for an internet source to connect to. Even though the server went down, the discharge it gave out still fought away the wave currents of other signals hoping to get through to her computer. Bliss ran out of the nook and opened the glass door with her back, holding her open laptop in her arms on the sidewalk of Tokyo. Signals pinged against her receiver, but the strength would not give her a fast enough connection to get back to what she was doing, although by now her plan already went to Hell by that message interacting and becoming fully demodulated. If only the power went out afterwards and those hackers could take the blame for this whole mess, not Ashley. The same girl who kicked her out and told her to take responsibility now would take the fall for Bliss. If Bliss told the story and someone stated it as ironic Bliss would barely contain her righteous fury. That little comment took her mind away from the severity of the nukes, but her mind sunk when she saw everything she did not want to see sitting before her in Ashley's bank account.

So Sachin nodded to the American man, got off the train, and waited outside the building.

One hundred American dollars for a few minutes of waiting! That was 7815 yen! He liked thinking of it in yen. It made it seem bigger. He wondered what the American man was actually doing, if all he wanted Sachin to do was wait outside a building and then page 7815 yen for it...

Sachin was now wondering if he could be considered an accompliance to a crime, if he had no idea what the damn crime was...The Indian boy was now worried about Japanese prison...anime didn't make it seem nice...though he could probably give a blowjob to get out...

Then he remembered. A hundred fucking American dollars, or seven thousand eight hundred and fifteen goddamn yen. That was good. It was keeping him going. So he leaned on the building wall, and looked around to see if a random old Japanese guy would try to get in. He decided to plug in his IPod headphones, and headbanged while he waited.

Let's think this through...The American guy, who seemed to be a pervert, had Sachin wait outside to distract a Japanese guy coming down the street. He was willing to pay a hundred dollars, proving he was pretty rich.

Now, they were waiting outside a law firm...So the man Sachin was to distract was probably a lawyer. Hmm...

Oh my god. The American man was a serial rapist trying to silence his last victim before the lawyer got there. Sachin could already see the hundreds of holes in that logic, but he felt that idea might make a good comic someday, or at least one of those he threw at his employers every week to get them off his back.

Clayton could see the headlines already, “American Arrested for Most Poorly Thought-out Robbery Attempt in Japanese History”. An endless stream of curses sprouted from his mouth. He began to think throwing the towel in after this one would be the best decision he ever made. His job was only seconds away from completion, and with the power out, it seemed it would remain that way for now. He could always come back later that night like he should have done in the first place.

Regardless of his timing, it was a job that should have gone off without a hitch. There were a few things about his situation that just were not right. He felt that the power outage was not his fault. That sort of thing never happened, especially not on a cake job like the one he was on. Why was this cake job paying so much anyway? Something was definitely wrong; It was too much to be a random coincidence. Dollar signs got the best of his judgment again. Clayton still needed to learn to look before he leaped.

The room was now only dimly lit by the shaded windows now. The darkness forced him to remove his sunglasses. Clayton ran his fingers through his hair. He decided coming back later would be the best course of action and turned to the door. As soon as his back was turned, a pair of boots smashed into his back. The completely unexpected impact of the drop kick was enough to send him face first into the ground. How could someone manage to get the drop on him like that?

A strangely familiar voice spoke out from behind him, “Get up, Gaijin. Try not to make this too easy, huh?”

Clayton quickly rolled around to face his assailant. It was the purple haired kid from earlier. The one with the mad-on for Americans and Coca Cola. “Ugh. What the fuck, kid? Did you follow me?”

“Duh. Loser. “ The kid raised a foot and attempted to drive it down on Clayton in a stomp.

Clayton was able to roll out of the way with relative ease. The stomp managed to crack the floor beneath next to him. “Is this because I called you gay?”

“Tch. No, but thanks for reminding me; I’ll remember to take my time with you now, Gaijin.” The kid flipped the hair out of his face, and grinned.

“What, are you like defending the files or something?” Clayton remained on the ground to keep the attacker talking. He wanted to know exactly what J-Pop was after before he knocked the kid’s lights out.

The kid’s look confusion spoke form him before he even answered, “Files? Don’t be an idiot. I don’t care about any of that. I’m just here for the hit out on you.”

“The what?!”

“You know, a price on your head? A hit. Google it sometime.”

“I didn’t mean… You know what? Forget it. I’ve heard enough.” Clayton rose to his feet in one fluid, spinning motion. He shifted into a stance copied directly from a professional boxer, and launched his fist at the kid.

Before the punch could connect, there was a crackling noise and J-Pop’s form shifted instantly. He became what seemed to be living purple electricity in the shape of his body. With the speed of lightning, he jumped past Clayton and into the electronic safe on the wall. Before Clayton could get a full grasp on exactly what happened, J-Pop was already behind him.

“You’ll have to do better than that, idiot.” His insults were followed by a large wave of electricity. It was too wide and too fast for Clayton to dodge. The blast sent him directly through the window behind him. The pain from the blast shooting through every inch of his body was enough to distract him from the glass cutting through his skin and the impact of the ground.

He coughed as he looked up at the sky in a daze. He could now officially add Japan to the list of places he hated.

Whenever a moment splinters into two dividing paths, fate always stands to take a shot down the wrong path. Taking the money away from Ashley's account to get rid of the hard evidence that the money would reside within her holdings only took a few moments. Even pushing the money down the rabbit hole that Bliss set up would not take too much of her energy, but the residue that the money stamped onto Ashley's account would remain in bank records for as long as the human collective used digital records. Hell, Bliss worked long enough in the quantum age to know that even this kind of branding would persist long until humans evolved past corporeal form. Shit.

Energy buzzed through the building. The course, low hum that electricity gave off when discharged in large quantities played to Bilss's ear; she followed like a mouse to the Pied Piper. Glimmers of light illuminated a room that supplied the entire first floor with enough noise and pyrotechnics to remove any doubt as to what caused the rumble in Tokyo. Bliss's rubber soled sneakers squeaked noisily down the linoleum, but found themselves entirely out matched by the loud crashing of a man through a window. This would be interesting for the newly forged Ice Queen.

Bliss threw a reckless assault of ice beams towards the electric kid. The elemental battle stumped Bliss as to what would occur. She did not know whether the electricity would conduct with the ice due to the water based origin, or if the coldness would slow down the electricity and let it lightly course through her. Bliss wanted to freeze his feet to the ground, taking away his ability to move as quickly as he could would even the odds for her. After she grappled his feet, Bliss would jump through the hole in the wall and fill it behind her.

Shattering large plates of ice would not work as well without any kind of hard object to chip away at it, so Bliss stayed calm in her approach to the downed man. "Time to put a little distance between the two of you." Bliss sprayed a frozen path along the side of the building face. "Right now you're winning the people I don't really hate for screwing me over contest..." After a long strip stretched from the bottom of the building to the top Bliss reached out her hand to freeze a belt around Clayton's waste. Once the liquid froze around him Bliss would let a stream of frozen liquid reach from her hand to Clayton's waist and Bliss would move him over to the ice strip, moving him up off of the ground and suspending him in the air. "...But I'm still going to need some answers from you people."

Sachin had been leaning on the wall, calmly listening to rap music, and trying to look for the Japanese lawyer dude the perverted American man had told him to look out for. A hundred dollars. He silently kept repeating that figure to himself. 5056 Indian rupees. 7815 yen. That was a nice solid little figure, and would get him a very nice vacation in Japan.

Then the American man was blasted through a window, and flew out of it. Sachin opened his mouth to gape, and started to run over to the man, shock on his face. Some thoughts were going through the young Indian American man's head right now, which included

Thought Numero Uno- Oh my god(s), is that guy OK? Breaking through that window looked like it really hurt like hell, and the glass shards and all probably didn't help...

Thought Numero Dos- What happened to him? Did all the perverted stuff (Sachin didn't have a very clear idea on this stuff, since he didn't really manage to do it himself) finally catch up to him and have him thrown out of a window? That stuff probably happened all the time in Japan...anime had told him so.

Thought Numero Tres- I could probably heal him up, make him brand as new...shouldn't be too hard.

Thought Numero Cuatro- I am still getting my hundred dollars, right? Cause damn, I just want that money so bad...A hundred dollars. 5056 Indian rupees. 7815 yen.

So then he started running over, but another woman, Japanese, was already on the scene. As Sachin watched, she created ice from the air, or blasted it from her hands, or whatever she did. The point is, she had cyrokinesis and froze a belt around the American man's waist.

Sachin had seen enough hentai to know where this was going, but against common sense he went in deeper into this supernatural soap opera. He jogged up to them, and just stared incredously.

"Err, what's going on?" he asked.

The kid had a name. It was Nori, and Nori could not help but feel smug at that moment. Fortune was in his favor as his victory was clearly imminent. He would simply step through the hole he created in the wall and finish what he started. He placed his hands on his hips and through his head back in an exaggerated laugh. Nori always had a flare for the dramatic. “All right, American. Just try not to take too long dying here, huh? After a blast that awesome, someone is sure to show up, and that would be pretty inconvienient.” The bizarre purple electricity crackled around his arms as he took steps toward the hole in the wall. There was noise coming from behind him. He turned around to face the commotion only to be met with frozen death beams. He was able to react just quickly enough to raise a field of electricity to repel the ice away. The source of the assault was a woman he had never seen in his entire life. The sudden attack came as a complete surprise to the cocky youth. Before he could question the girl or launch any attack of his own, she was already on her way out of the building. He turned to leap after her and found himself stuck with his shoes frozen to the ground. It seemed that fortune was not in his favor afterall. Frustration boiled up in the boy. It just was not fair. “Hey! No kill stealing! I had him! I HAD HIM!” Nori shouted after Bliss with the tone of an aggravated child. “This is bullshit.” He pouted.


Clayton coughed again. He was almost certain he coughed up smoke like some kind of slapstick cartoon character with that one. He felt almost completely disoriented from the combination of the shock and the fall. If the kid was going to kill him, he certainly had his chance. The air was suddenly colder than before, if only slightly. Clayton stayed on his back, but lifted himself up on his elbows to face his assassin. The assassin he faced was not the gay vampire he was expecting. She was slightly more feminine than the other, and much better looking. Somehow he always knew it would be a woman that put him down for good. At least it was a pretty one. What was she doing with her hands? His waist felt like it was covered in ice cubes and he felt himself being raised into the air. The woman was speaking to him, but he could not entirely make out what was being said over the ringing in his ears. He could tell she spoke English atleast. “Answers? Yeah, look, if you guys want me dead so bad, could you at least do me the favor of telling me exactly what it is I’m being killed over?” With only his waist in suspension, Clayton felt that if he could get her talking, it might give him a chance to reach for the pistol he kept in a shoulder holster under his jacket.

Out of nowhere, came Sachin. Clayton did not like the idea of someone he did not know being put in harm’s way over his problems. The distraction the awkward artist could provide was more than welcome, though. “God damn it, what does it look like, kid?”