Omikami no Isan: Marked
Feb. 10th, 2009 12:48 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsEn route to Japan, the X-Men discover who is responsible for the slayings.
Shiro hung up the phone and sighed despondently in his seat. He hadn't even been able to reach Keniuchio Harada personally, but had instead been transferred from secretary to secretary. He felt that he'd spoken to every employee at Silver Samurai, Inc. but the president and CEO himself. He had at least secured a face-to-face meeting with Harada, but arranging that was a tortuous endeavor. His fellow teammates had heard the words hi, kashi, and kyoui come up in conversation many times.
"The Allied firebombing of Tokyo had some lasting effect," he announced. "No one wants it to be repeated, so I will be able to speak with Harada once we arrive. He refuses to speak with me and actually be helpful now."
"Diplomacy, Shiro," Scott said from the pilot's seat of the Blackbird, not looking away from his controls. His posture, in comparison to his younger teammate's, was relaxed; it had been a perfectly smooth flight so far. Technically he could have turned on the autopilot, but where was the fun in that? "It's not going to hurt us to wait and see what he says, and he might be more accommodating if you approach him on his terms."
"My father was the diplomat, not I," Shiro reminded him, but he accepted what Scott said and tried to loosen that horrible knot of anxiety in his chest. "I hate evil relatives. Nothing good ever comes from them."
"My vote is to try the diplomacy first, then we get to tie him up," Jennie said, inspecting her thumbnail before running the emery board over it again, noting the horrible irony of Mr. Xenophobia's father being a diplomat.
"If we tie him up, can we draw on him with a sharpie?" Clarice asked, from where she was trying to read for class. She wasn't having much luck, but she was trying, "Cause if we can, I totes vote for that. We don't have the best diplomacy group here." Mostly meaning herself and Shiro, though Kyle had his moments too.
"I vote we make Garrison do all the talking. He totally talks the language -and- he's good with that." As usual, Kyle had forgone shoes, and while still in one of the plane's seats and buckled in, at some point he'd dragged one of the boxes of emergency supplies over and was using it as a foot rest, with his knees pulled up and a textbook open, with a few scattered post-it notes sticking out of some of the pages.
"I can do that. We really don't have a lot of depth here, and from what you've said, Shiro, pissing off your cousin could end up making this a lot harder in the long run. Besides, if it comes down to it, the badge and the words RCMP can sometimes get a little more cooperation than normal. After all, Harada probably has business interests in BC, even if he's not into organized crime there, and pissing off some dumb Canuck cop who might hold a grudge might not be worth the effort." Garrison shrugged. He would almost have preferred to have his FBI credentials, since Hollywood made them to be a lot scary, even outside of the US, but he had no authority to use it when he wasn't inside the American border. "Shiro, what if he does blow us off? He can't be the only angle we have to look into this thing. Maybe a friend or relative connected to the NPA, someone we can give some incentive to talk to us?"
"I do not have many friends in Japan, and even less family. Most people who would be helpful to speak with are probably in Harada's pocket, too. His pockets are disturbingly deep." There had to be someone willing to to defy the Silver Samurai whom they could reach, though. "Oh, I know. Akuno Hikari-san. She is an assistant of Harada's and would know much of what he does, or could direct us to those who do. She used to work secretly for my cousin Mariko, and she helped Leyu-chan and me escape Harada once. She may be our plan B."
Scott actually laughed. "And you say you're not a diplomat," he mocked Shiro gently, and made a downward adjustment to their altitude. "I'm told one of the key tactics of diplomacy is knowing when and how to get around the immovable objects in your path."
"Fire, usually." Shiro's answer to everything. He opened a file folder Garrison had passed him containing more photos of murdered victims in much the same state as the others, and the papers fell to his feet, his face drained of all color.
Getting up, Clarice went to go look at the photos then picked one up that caught her eye for a closer look. "Hey, Shiro," she said, handing it to him, "That's the Hand. Fuckers." This was Not Good. Not at all. She hated those ninja bastards.
The photo smoldered under his fingertips, and Shiro dropped that, too, before it all turned to ash. "I suppose that part of the question is now answered," he rasped. "But why is The Hand killing mutants?"
"Okay," Scott said from the pilot's seat without looking around. "A) No burning things on my plane. B), at least we have something more to go on now."
Shiro hung up the phone and sighed despondently in his seat. He hadn't even been able to reach Keniuchio Harada personally, but had instead been transferred from secretary to secretary. He felt that he'd spoken to every employee at Silver Samurai, Inc. but the president and CEO himself. He had at least secured a face-to-face meeting with Harada, but arranging that was a tortuous endeavor. His fellow teammates had heard the words hi, kashi, and kyoui come up in conversation many times.
"The Allied firebombing of Tokyo had some lasting effect," he announced. "No one wants it to be repeated, so I will be able to speak with Harada once we arrive. He refuses to speak with me and actually be helpful now."
"Diplomacy, Shiro," Scott said from the pilot's seat of the Blackbird, not looking away from his controls. His posture, in comparison to his younger teammate's, was relaxed; it had been a perfectly smooth flight so far. Technically he could have turned on the autopilot, but where was the fun in that? "It's not going to hurt us to wait and see what he says, and he might be more accommodating if you approach him on his terms."
"My father was the diplomat, not I," Shiro reminded him, but he accepted what Scott said and tried to loosen that horrible knot of anxiety in his chest. "I hate evil relatives. Nothing good ever comes from them."
"My vote is to try the diplomacy first, then we get to tie him up," Jennie said, inspecting her thumbnail before running the emery board over it again, noting the horrible irony of Mr. Xenophobia's father being a diplomat.
"If we tie him up, can we draw on him with a sharpie?" Clarice asked, from where she was trying to read for class. She wasn't having much luck, but she was trying, "Cause if we can, I totes vote for that. We don't have the best diplomacy group here." Mostly meaning herself and Shiro, though Kyle had his moments too.
"I vote we make Garrison do all the talking. He totally talks the language -and- he's good with that." As usual, Kyle had forgone shoes, and while still in one of the plane's seats and buckled in, at some point he'd dragged one of the boxes of emergency supplies over and was using it as a foot rest, with his knees pulled up and a textbook open, with a few scattered post-it notes sticking out of some of the pages.
"I can do that. We really don't have a lot of depth here, and from what you've said, Shiro, pissing off your cousin could end up making this a lot harder in the long run. Besides, if it comes down to it, the badge and the words RCMP can sometimes get a little more cooperation than normal. After all, Harada probably has business interests in BC, even if he's not into organized crime there, and pissing off some dumb Canuck cop who might hold a grudge might not be worth the effort." Garrison shrugged. He would almost have preferred to have his FBI credentials, since Hollywood made them to be a lot scary, even outside of the US, but he had no authority to use it when he wasn't inside the American border. "Shiro, what if he does blow us off? He can't be the only angle we have to look into this thing. Maybe a friend or relative connected to the NPA, someone we can give some incentive to talk to us?"
"I do not have many friends in Japan, and even less family. Most people who would be helpful to speak with are probably in Harada's pocket, too. His pockets are disturbingly deep." There had to be someone willing to to defy the Silver Samurai whom they could reach, though. "Oh, I know. Akuno Hikari-san. She is an assistant of Harada's and would know much of what he does, or could direct us to those who do. She used to work secretly for my cousin Mariko, and she helped Leyu-chan and me escape Harada once. She may be our plan B."
Scott actually laughed. "And you say you're not a diplomat," he mocked Shiro gently, and made a downward adjustment to their altitude. "I'm told one of the key tactics of diplomacy is knowing when and how to get around the immovable objects in your path."
"Fire, usually." Shiro's answer to everything. He opened a file folder Garrison had passed him containing more photos of murdered victims in much the same state as the others, and the papers fell to his feet, his face drained of all color.
Getting up, Clarice went to go look at the photos then picked one up that caught her eye for a closer look. "Hey, Shiro," she said, handing it to him, "That's the Hand. Fuckers." This was Not Good. Not at all. She hated those ninja bastards.
The photo smoldered under his fingertips, and Shiro dropped that, too, before it all turned to ash. "I suppose that part of the question is now answered," he rasped. "But why is The Hand killing mutants?"
"Okay," Scott said from the pilot's seat without looking around. "A) No burning things on my plane. B), at least we have something more to go on now."
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