It came out a bit short(and is still unedited; I need some hard opinions on what I could do to add to this piece... ), but here is C2!
At his layover, Drake went to the gifts shop so he could send his mother something small. Her tastes were still for those tacky ceramic figurines, so he commenced his search for one or two. Just as they began calling his flight, he found some in one of the shops. They seemed...out of place, though. The little man looked as though he had seen a horrid tragedy, and was then frozen with the look if pure fear still on his face; the woman, however, sent shivers down Drakes spine. She reminded him of one of the three crones of Roman Mythology; one of the fates. That wasn’t what got him though, it was the...the look she had about her. Her black eyes seemed to pierce into him, and her smile was hate filled, but not stupid. Her hair, though carefully molded, seemed ragged, and horribly ratty. Her whole appearance seemed...dark, hateful, wrong. Drake suddenly had the same feeling that he did on a trip to Haiti; like there was a deep wellspring of darkness nearby. He all but ran from the store.
Back on the plane, Drake suddenly felt tired, as if he had walked for miles. As he asked a steward for a pillow, he also inquired about the little gift shop across from the café on the end. Looking at him oddly, the steward went and grabbed him a pillow. On his return, he told Drake exactly what he was hoping not to hear: The little shop hadn’t been in operation since the owner had been executed for Voodoo. Drake saw that this trip was going to be the one that put him in either a booby hatch, or a grave. He hoped for neither, but didn’t set his sights at coming out unscathed, either. Drake decided that he should get the sleep that he could so he would be ready to go after he landed at Haneda International at Tokyo. He knew that customs would take an hour or so, and then he’d have to wait for his luggage, and then find his contact. Though the first two wouldn’t be that bad, he knew that the third could be awful. Most of the time, he would meet his client directly, but the way this all was sounding, he was going to meet the Chief of Tokyo Police. He didn’t think that they would find him a security risk, but it was possible that out of those killed, one or more of them could’ve easily been researchers. With a mental shrug, Drake turned over on his side, and went to sleep.
"Falling...why do I feel like I’m falling? Is this a dream, or a vision?" Drake wondered this to himself, but could feel the words, like they were a pliable substance in the air. He only had this sensation in his dreams, so he thought that he would wake himself up. He couldn’t. "Great...the dream and the vision are tied together. I wonder who wants to talk to me." He got his answer almost before he could finish the thought. Fading in out of the darkness was a gigantic shape; like a life-size monster, the Wendigo was standing not twenty feet in front of Drake.
"So then...It seems that we meet, hunter..."
Drake knew the moment the beast began speaking that it was in another language. His mind heard it all in English, simply because that was what the beast wanted. The meant that the creature had something of importance to say to him. What it was, Drake couldn’t guess, but knew that he would be finding out soon enough.
"I come to you now, in peace, because I know that this is the only chance. I may be a being made of ‘evil’, but know this, hunter, even a creature such as I can be controlled."
Drake woke with a start, drenched in sweat, with a stewardess gently rubbing his shoulder to rouse him. He looked at her and smiled, she looked confused for a moment, but then she knew, not how she knew, but she knew nonetheless that the man under her hand knew why she was there. She then returned his smile, and walked away, obviously shaken.
Drake sat up, fixed his chair, and prepared for the landing. The way he felt at that exact moment, was as if he had just had a conversation with an old friend, not a demon that walked the plains of the land, and those of the mind. The idea of it being controlled, however, didn’t strike Drake as unplausible. In fact, it felt like the only thing that was making sense enough to say that, that was why the beast hadn’t been corrupted by the native magick of Japan. The power that would be needed to do it, though, was beyond Drakes grasp, because the power needed to control even a lesser demon was beyond the grasp of any living man. Well, he amended his thoughts, beyond any living man he knew of, anyway.
As his plane landed, Drake saw that he was expected. There were banners all along the strip that announced welcome to him, both in English and Japanese. He laughed, because this also meant that there were throngs of media groups waiting to get an official statement regarding his business in Japan. With another laugh, he got the mental image of hundreds of amateur Paranormalists that would want either his secrets, or his autograph.
He supposed that this was what it was like to be a celebrity, but knew that this much attention could lead to big problems. There would be so much confined chakra to make his senses reel, and if there was enough people, it could render him unconscious. From there, he couldn’t be responsible if his mind lashed out to defend him. He decided right then that he wasn’t going to be leaving by way of the terminal; he would use one of the crew exits that lead right to the parking lot, and would call the Chief from his waiting rental. He thought, though, that such a tactic may be expected, so it might be better yet to just hide his general appearance and go right to the streets, and grab a cab. Digging in his luggage, Drake found his hat and his cloak. The hat was more or less a beanie, but it looked like Link’s hat from OoT, and the cloak was much like those seen im paintings of Druids, with the deep hood, and long flowing cape. It was more of a joke between him and his brother, since the day Drake had played Merlin in the Renaissance Fair when he was 18. The cloak just kinda stick as an appearance thing, so he kept it for just such an occasion. He put on the hat, and then the cloak, leaving the hood down, and looked outside to see how lighted the area was. The major lights had been shut down, since the airport proper had shut down for the night, but the walkways, halls and the such were still bright. Taking his bag to the bathroom, he used a but of stage makeup to cover his scars temporarily, so he would seem less himself. When the time came, he spoke with the pilot, who realized what Drake was asking, and took him along with him. So far, Drake’s plan was working.
At the rear exit of the airport, Drake was delighted to see a cab waiting for him. When he enquired about it, the pilot said that he had one of the crew radio ahead to have one waiting. Drake bowed, and then shook the man’s hand, covertly slipping Y1,000 into his pocket. Getting in the cab, the driver turned to him and asked Drake where he was going. Without thinking, Drake told the man to wait, so he could make a phone call. Dialing quickly, Drake got hold of the chief, and told him where he was. The chief said for Drake to go to HQ and wait for him there, so that they could discuss the case. Drake confirmed, and told the driver where he was headed. Five minutes later, Drake was standing in front of the Tokyo police station, waiting for the chief.
While waiting, Drake decided to call the customs agent, and have the packages waiting for him delivered to his hotel room. When the agent asked for his claim number, and Drake gave it to him. The agent laughed when he told Drake that he had already been ordered by the Chief of Police to do that already, and gave Drake the official address of where he was staying; it was one of the only Hilton Hotels in all of Japan. With a grimace, Drake thanked the man, and hung up.
"How on Earth am I supposed to afford this? I hope that someone else is picking up this tab..."
Not long after his phone call, the chief pulled up in one of the cruisers. The thing about it that Drake didn’t understand, was why he was in a suit and not his uniform. Then, with a shock, Drake realized that the Chief he had talked to those years ago, had become The Chief! He was the new head of Tokyo police that Drake had read about in the paper on the plane He was glad to see that the years had been kind to the Chief, because even their brief meeting had given Drake a lot of respect for the man. He hoped that the Chief would recognize him under all his hiding, and impulsively wiped off the makeup to be sure.
The man stopped and bowed to Drake. "Drake, we meet again. It is a pleasure to see you, I just wish that it were under better circumstances. Please, let us go to my office."
Drake returned his bow, and said, "The pleasure is mine. I am glad to see that you have progressed through the ranks of the force. I'm expecting to hear how it happened."
With a grin, the man told Drake that he would hear of that, if he wished."Although I would preferr to get the case out of the air first. It is a most troubling subject."
"Of course. This place is yours, so we will conduct this in a manner that is fitting for you."
The Chief laughed and showed Drake into the building, and then to his office, where they could share stories and discuss what needed to be said. On their way, though there was a few things that the Cheif wanted to speak with Drake about, including his call earlier in the week. It wasn't the call that he was interested in, though, as much as it was the timing of said call. He brought this fact up to Drake, who began to laugh outright.
"Aye, you'll have to forgive me, Cheif. I try to keep tabs on my contacts so that I'll have a heads up if there is trouble. I just happened to look in on you at the exact right time." Drake had been chuckling through out his explaination, but he stopped suddenly, as if humor itself had just been murdered. He began to look about the elevator car as if it had grown in size, and that is when the Cheif even registered that something was very, very wrong. He began to glance about the car, in hopes of seeing what Drake could not, but neither could he spot the exact center of the problem. He could feel it eminating from the very walls of the car, as if there was a great fan that was blowing fetid air directly into the car. Drake began to flush with anger, and the Cheif could feel an even more palpable force begin eminating from the large man beside him.
"Drake, what is it? Can you tell me what's wrong so that I might help?" he asked, hoping to calm the Irishman down. This sudden bout of anger that was welling out of Drake reminded the Cheif of one of the things that Drake had told him on the night they met: "If I ever seem to begin getting angered at a single place; if you can feel the very air itself; start to sing. One thing that I am not proud of is my temper; if it gets the better of me, I tend to lash out, physically as well as mentally. My mother refused to allow me to even come home if I was in a pet. She'd make me go walking on the moor so that I would destroy nothing but a few trees; in the house, I was likely to bring the very roof down on our heads."
The Cheif had no idea what to sing, so he began with one of his favorite Karaoke songs: When Irish Eyes are Smiling. He had only gotten past the third line when Drake suddenly stopped and looked at him. He was still very red, but his anger quickly abated into laughter. The Cheif, embarrassed, asked Drake what in the name of Buddah what was so funny. Drake looked at him, tears streaming down his face, and said, "I've heard many a man sing that song, but never had I heard it sung so well from anyone that wasn't kegged!" The Cheif blushed even deeper, knowing that Drake ment his comment as a compliment, and his blush made Drake laugh all the more. His laughter seemed to diminsh the force that was flowing around the car, and soon the Cheif was also laughing; not from humor, but for the simple release it brought.
When the elevator chimed their stop, Drake's laughter slowly ebbed into awe, as he found that the entire upper Suite was the Cheifs office. Taking in his surroundings, Dake wandered the room; the Cheif, however, took his customary seat behind his desk. Looking at the name plate Drake was finally given a name to address his companion by, insted of calling him "Cheif" as did his subbordinates.
"Cheif Tsu Aramai...a handsome name. Would I be too informal if I called you, Aramai-sama?"
"Drake...you honor me! Not only did you say my name properly, you knew the correct suffix in which to use! I am impressed!"
Drake laughed, and waved the compliment away. "Now, now...you needn't be so amazed. Did I not spend a week with you here on my last vacation? I called you 'Cheif' because it was the only name I heard you addressed by; I did some studying before I came. 'When in someone else's home, it is best not to complain of their cleaning.' Is that not how the saying goes?"
"Hai, but you have the saying out of context. I think you mean, 'When in Rome...'"
To the amusement of Aramai-sama, Drake blushed, and nodded. Without adressing his correction, he asked Aramai-sama to fill him in on the last of the details that he was lacking. Drake knew about the fact that it was a Wedigo, there was an attack, and that it had its corpreal form destroyed. What he was looking for, though, was how many it killed, where they were killed, and if there had been an y suspicious packages, people or the such brought into the country before the attacks. In the back of his head, he thought that he had most, if not all, of the answers that he was looking for; he just wanted confirmations and further explainations on most.
Before starting, Aramai-sama asked Drake if he would like a cigar. Drake declined that, but when he was offered sake, he accepted with gusto.
"Just Drake, if you please. No offence, but the honorary suffixes sound like shit on my name."
"Of course! It is one thing when giving a man shit, but it is another if it injurs their name. Before I continue, I have to ask: Is your brouge thick than the last time we met?"
Drake laughed, "Aye, that it is. I spent most of six months back home on vacation. I guess that I got so used to Gaelic, that my English got a bit rusty. Now, if you don't mind me asking, has your English gotten better?"
Now it was Aramai-sama's turn to laugh, "Yes, actually, it has. My son is in California studying buisiness management, law, and police enforcement tactics. He chose your LA because he thought that they would offer him the best courses. Most of his letters come in English, so I had to be a quick study so that I could respond."
Both men shared a good laugh at that, and sat with their thought for a moment before carrying on with the topic at hand. Drake took another glass of sake, enjoying the warmth is spread through his body. "Better than Guinuss any day..." he thought, and returned his attention to the topics at hand.
As the night turned to morning, both men found themselves still in Aramai-sama's office talking. Both had talked family, friends, and other endevours, and as the sun rose, Drake became solemn. "You know, I think you told me just about everything there is for a one man to tell another. I think that it is high time that I tell someone my story. I'm sure that I told you some the last time we met," Aramai nodded. "Well then, here is my whole story. Just stop me if I lapse into Gaelic, I tend to do that when I'm drunk." Aramai said that he would, but he never needed to; Drake spoke directly to his mind.