Losing Masks

by Nicholas Metelsky

  Svyatov is such a goofball. Demobilization accord for a sergeant? That's ridiculous. He should have done it much earlier. Yes, even if so. So how do I explain to this Japanese man what it means?

  “I'm in the same boat, Seven—I have no idea.”

  Well, explaining it to him would take a while.

  “But I will certainly talk to Svyatov. I think three days should be enough for you.”

  The commanders were informed that I was coming and were waiting for me in the waiting room. Svyatov, Kuroda, and Antipov were there.

  “Did you miss me? Great,” I got the keys and opened the door to the office. “I've been to visit Akemi,” I said, lifting up the bag I was holding in my left hand, “and collected some information. So it's time to discuss our next objectives.”

  When I sat down in my chair and laid out the paperwork and maps, I was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock at the door. A second later, the door flew open. Taro stood there in all his glory.

  “What's wrong with your phone, boss?” He asked without even saying hello.

  “What's wrong with it?” I asked in response, taking out my cell phone. “Crap, the battery is dead.”

  “Boss, you... okay, never mind. It's good that I made it here before you started discussing your military plans.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I was contacted by the administrative office of the Aketi clan, and we scheduled a meeting on Saturday. So don't plan anything important for this day.”

  “Aketi?” I looked at the men, but they looked just as clueless. “What's going on?”

  “Aketi, boss! Do you remember me talking with the head of the clan? At the Koyama reception?“

  Ahh, sure, sure. That's true.

  “There is a chance we can sign a contract worth millions, even tens of millions. And this is only the beginning,” continued Taro. “We promote the Aketi brand, and they will promote ours.”

  “Got it, Taro. Yes, I understand. Saturday, business meeting, no important plans. Is that all you have for me?”

  “Is that not enough?”

  “That's plenty enough, Taro. Of course. We are trying to plan a few things here too,” I said, looking at the men in the room. “They’re also important. I don't mind if you stick around for this. Have a seat, lend your ears, you might want to add something.”

  “I've got a few other things I need to do. But remember, on Saturday, I'll be all yours. So don't even think of making another silver trip with me involved. Actually, I wouldn't mind, but meeting with Aketi is more important.”

  “In that case, we'll probably proceed. Do you mind?”

  “Sure thing. I'm sorry. I'm gonna go.”

  “Very well, gentlemen,” I cleared my throat. “It seems that you will have to do without me this Saturday.”

  Antipov shrugged his shoulders, Svyatov chuckled, and Kuroda did nothing. He could take up a second job as an English butler. His narrow eyes would add a kind of charm to him.

  “This time,” I began, “we will have several objectives. I'll talk about the main one in a bit. So,” I threw one of the folders to Antipov, “you, Kirill Romanovich, get the club called Aero. Ultimately, it's a drug-dealing joint. I doubt that they ever have ordinary visitors. At the same time, the club is the base of one of the two of Bat’s remaining Veterans. It'd make sense if he had a bunch of thugs there with him. Your mission is to destroy everything and everyone. Demolish this club, Captain.”

  “Done,” he muttered, reading the papers.

  “You, Kuroda,” I threw another folder on the table, “get the basics: just another warehouse. There's no need to destroy anything. Arrive, multiply the guards by zero and leave.”

  “Boss...”

  “If you screw up on this one...”

  “Boss, I... I'll do it.”

  “Now the major one,” I took out one more folder. “Although, not so complicated, it is for you, Alexei. It's a railway station. More precisely, there are several cars there. Take out the security left by Bat, but you should probably just knock out the civilians and whoever else will be there. We'll think about it. Put them out if you have to, as long as it's not lethal. Suzuki will go with you.”

  “Are we going to rob again?” The Russian grinned.

  “Collect the trophies,” I corrected him. “It's a war, baby.”

  “Sure,” Svyatov replied, still grinning.

  “Ahem, next.”

  This discussion about who, what, when, and how lasted for an hour and a half. Antipov left twenty minutes into it. He was going to present his plan of action to me later, so I let him go. When the discussion was over, I suddenly realized that I didn’t mind discussing something else. All the heaps of papers on my desk, as well as inside it were slightly demotivating, because they meant unfinished business.

  Northing special happened the next day at school. The only thing that would be worth mentioning was that Mizuki did get scratched on the nose, finally. Literally. The speed with which the cat attacked her made me truly respect him. Looking peaceful at first, he charged at her, and I think even I wouldn't have had time to react.

  After school, I picked up Fantik and headed to a meet with his grandchildren. I was in desperate need of technicians at the moment. Of course, I could find them through Koyama, but somehow, I cherished the dream of luring them to my side. I understood that it was just a dream, but it warmed my heart. As they say, water dripping day by day wears the hardest rock away. If they came to me, it’d be for a coat of arms, which I could give them only as a head of the clan. This, in turn, wouldn’t happen very soon.

  The brothers Kazuhisa lived in the countryside and owned what could be called a car repair shop, the peculiarity of which was that they repaired everything—from TV sets to combat robots. Of course, they did not bother with such trifle objects as TV sets, but they certainly could fix one, if it were necessary. By the way, both brothers had exactly the same last name and had no idea that Fantik was their grandfather. The weird thing about it was the fact that the old man also had the same last name, although, he should have changed it, considering his wish to keep the relation secret. Personally, I think that Fantik simply couldn’t break the last thread connecting him to his family. Well, okay, this was only my opinion, and I didn't want to pry into the private life of my first teacher in this world.

  “Not too shabby for a base here,” I said as we approached one of the three hangars on a quarter acre patch of land. “But it's not my place to talk about it.”

  “As far as I know, these,” the old man moved his head around from side to side, “are the ancestral lands of Amateru. The brothers are servants of the bloodline, like their father was,” Fantik sighed, slowly and heavily, “so the bloodline helps them as best they can. “

  “What bloodline is that?” I could ask the Koyama, but I was too curious at the moment to wait till later. Although, the old man probably didn’t know much himself.

  “It's an old, but third-rate, almost moribund bloodline. They’re also very poor. During the Second World War, they got it hot and strong and more than the others in the clan. I really do not know why Koyama Kenta doesn’t help them, but the fact remains,” he nodded to his own words, then he grinned. “That's just the gist of it. Also, I didn’t get that much information after the death of my son. After all, a lot has changed since then, and all that I have to settle for now is rumors.”

  Damn it, even though it's not my fault, I want to apologize for reminding him. What's the point, though? It's not going to make it any easier for him, if not worse. Whatever one may say, the old man is a proud person and my words could seem like pity right now.

  “I see. Okay, let's go. We'll make the artisans happy with the new order. Are you sure that they are free now?”

  “It's not the time to care about that,” Fantik grumbled. “Even if they are busy, does that mean we go back now? Don't you worry, they have no orders right now. I'm sure they're streamlining something for sale. Or repairing. Or building. O
r... well, you know,” he jerked his shoulder.

  By the way, there were no guards there. At least, I did not see any. On the other hand, there were many guard towers there that were definitely part of one system. I wondered how this system determined who was a friend and who was a foe? There were many options available, but I wasn’t sure which one exactly they used. Fantik did give me something similar to an ID tag, so probably the local tourrelles took that into account.

  “Yo, old man!” Cried a twenty-year-old guy when we walked into the hangar.

  There were three other men next to him, and I had no idea if two of them were the brothers-artisans.

  “Where have you been? We haven't seen you for two weeks,” the guy said, coming closer and looking me over head to toe. “Whom did you bring here?”

  “I was busy. He's a customer,” said Fantik.

  “Short and sweet, as usual. A customer is always good, but I mean, he's kind of small.”

  I already don't like this person. It's not that he mentioned my height, although, I don't like that either, but the fact that he is talking with Fantik as if I weren’t even here. After all, it's common sense that no one likes to be ignored. But there is always some idiot who doesn’t care about the norms of society. Most importantly, I can't even punch him in the face. Considering how tight the space between the tourelles is, even I don't have a chance of getting out of the base. The chance of staying here forever is actually pretty big. For sure, I wouldn't be able to get Fantik out of here after that. On the other hand, I wouldn't be trying to kill him, just hit him in the eye once. Maybe they won’t try to kill me then. I doubt that everything is so harsh here.

  The guys seemed to feel my thoughts, because he got very pale after them. Damn the Yaki!

  “Tell me,” I said, calming down, “if I break your jaw now, your tourelles won't cut me in pieces, will they?”

  Oops, I overreacted. I hope it's not Kazuhisa in front of me.

  “Umm...”

  “Don't worry, they won't,” said Fantik, frowning, and then he repeated my thoughts, “It's not that bad here.”

  “Nevertheless, you shouldn't do that,” said another man approaching us.

  He looked about twenty five years old. Like everyone else here, he was dressed in a green jumpsuit with oil spots all over it.

  “Sam, go back to work.”

  Sam, heh. Is this a nickname or a shortened name? The guy was definitely Asian.

  “Hi, Fantik, is this the client you told me about?” The old man just nodded. “Kazuhisa Hideaki, nice to meet you.”

  “Sakurai Shinji,” I bowed slightly in return.

  It wasn't very polite, but he didn’t seem to care.

  “It's nice to meet you too. I've heard a lot of good things about you. Would you mind telling me what that thing will end up being?”

  I nodded in the direction of the dismantled machine in the center of the hangar, around which the rest of the men were bustling. It looked like a heap of scrap metal.

  “AH-30 Flash. The Russians call it ‘the cigarette lighter’. It’s a light French MIA, one of the smallest, and we want to make it even smaller,” he looked back. “In theory, with the same armor and weapons, it will be less visible and more mobile. However, we'll see when it's done.”

  He realized that he had gotten carried away and stopped himself. The conversation seemed to give him great pleasure, but the problem was that the potential client may not be interested in it.

  “Let's go to our lounge,” he pointed to the corner of the hangar with a couple of tables, sofas, a coffee machine, and some small containers with food and probably beer. In general, it was a place where tired technicians took a break from righteous labor.

  I sat on one of these nice sofas and was handed a glass of orange juice. I took it only out of courtesy. Who did he think I was? He could have offered me coffee, at least. Or beer! Although I was just sixteen, no peers of mine seemed to care when they decided to drink. I didn’t really drink beer, but he still could have offered me coffee. Actually, this guy, gave the impression of a life-hardened man despite his youthful appearance.

  “So,” said the man, sitting down on the sofa in front of me. “If you don't mind, let's talk business.”

  Having opened a bottle of beer, the eldest of the Kazuhis brothers sent the cap flying to the trashcan that was about sixteen feet away from us.

  “How can we help? Who do you represent?”

  “I represent myself and my company Shidotamoru.”

  “Shidotamoru? Okay then,” Hideaki thought for a bit and his tone got much more polite. “I'm ready to discuss your order. What can we do for you?”

  “Recently I bought a couple of dozen MIAs, and I need to equip a place for them. It has to be done quickly and preferably with a possibility of future expansion.”

  “Mmm, are they MIAs made by different manufacturers? And what do you mean by 'quickly'?”

  “Yes. Russian and Spanish. A week would be a good timeframe.”

  “A week?” Hideasaki was surprised. “In a week, we can equip a place for fifty MIAs, and even then mainly because we’d need to search, purchase, and deliver the equipment. By the way, will you leave the choice and purchase to us, or do you already have something in mind?”

  “I'll let you take care of that. I have only what came in the kit, you know.”

  “Yes, I do,” he drawled, thinking about something. “Possibility of expansion... Well, we can do it in a week. As I said, there are fifty seats,” it sounded like their technical jargon. “Although, if you only need a standard kit, we can finish earlier.”

  “I'm sorry, what does 'standard' mean?”

  “The standard kit consists of capsules for storage and vesting, system equipment for settings and repair, you know why. On the other hand, the expanded kit, or improved, full—call it whatever you want—in addition to all of this is complemented by a charging device, so that you don't have to mess with the ammunition manually. It is also quicker, with a deep modernization and operator sets. Although, it is rather an addition to the system equipment, exercise equipment, or virtual simulation,” he thought for a bit and added. “This is a minimal set. Otherwise, we have all that your heart desires.”

  “It'd be nice to understand it all,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway, you are known as the best engineers in Japan. Therefore, I expect the best from the best. And certainly, the most complete.”

  “It won't be cheap,” said Fantik's grandson.

  “Yeah, I'm guessing not. Will a hundred million be enough?” I smiled at the edge of my lips.

  “It is unlikely. If you, of course, want all the best.”

  Jesus Christ!

  “Umm... Ha-ah. Maybe I do not understand something? But I can buy myself a couple of medium MIAs for this money. The best ones. I can then equip a top-notch hangar for them. I know for sure: I've made those calculations once before. So what makes you so expensive?”

  My words put him in a stupor. It seemed that he didn't know whether to be resentful or mock me. He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaled and finally spoke.

  “Please forgive me. Apparently, I misled you. Speaking about the price, I meant yen.”

  “Ho-oh. Indeed, that's funny. Well, how about rubles? Will that be enough?”

  “Yes, of course. Half of the amount you named is more than enough. I think that even twenty, twenty-five million will be fine. This will include our fee.”

  “Don't you scare me so much anymore, Kazuhisa-san. I don't care about the money, but I thought that most of my calculations would have to be redone. My complete ignorance on this issue would also be unpleasant.”

  “Once again, I beg your pardon, Sakurai-san,” he nodded.

  For some reason, this time I felt uncomfortable being addressed in that way. He didn't need to apologize the second time. I understand that I'm a client and all that, but it's embarrassing to hear it from an expert. I don't like to be embarrassed. It felt like I had made him apologize, and for n
o reason. Why wouldn’t he just smile and shrug his shoulders?

  “That's alright, Kazuhisa-san. I mean it. Do not take my words so seriously. In any case, if they are not relevant to something actual,” he just nodded. “You know what? When Fantik and I arrived here, I decided I really want to have the same system of tourelles, as you have here, on the territory of my base. Can this be arranged? After we are done with the main order, of course.”

  “I don’t see why not,” he smiled lightly. “Do you want a light, medium, or heavy version?”

  ***

  My phone started vibrating in the middle of third period. That's what frightened me most of all. Everyone who has this number knows well that I go to school, and the first half of my day is busy. So this call meant only one thing: trouble.

  “I beg your pardon, Riro-sensei,” I said, standing up sharply from behind the desk, “I just got really bad stomach cramps. Really, really bad. Please let me go to the nurse's office.”

  “Are you sure you don't need to use the bathroom?” The Japanese teacher smirked.

  The phone kept going off.

  “You are absolutely right. Thank you,” having said this, I walked quickly out of the class, almost running.

  “Er, Sakurai-kun...” was everything I had time to hear from the teacher before the door closed behind me.

  I reached for my mobile phone as I closed the door, and a couple of steps later, answered the call.

  “Sakurai-san, this is Sugishima. Twenty minutes ago, on the way to the Shidotamoru office, we were attacked by five strangers. Nemoto-san was wounded and is limited in mobility. I managed to break away from the attackers, but I had to leave the car there. I'm afraid they did not fall behind.” After a couple of moments of silence, he added, “It seems that they got reinforcements. I'm trying to get to the Shinshi shopping center.”

  Oh, crap! This is just bull crap!

  I almost hit the wall next to me from the overwhelming feelings. It wasn’t my people being attacked that got me. After all, if I lost my mind every time my people were in danger, I would have become a neurasthenic a long time ago. The fact was that they were now in the area of the shopping center, which meant it'd take about an hour and a half for the fighters from the base to get there.