Wrath of the Shadow

(Musical Ambience: Unmanned, Dismantled, Exit)

FBI Miami Office...

White pulled the car into an empty space in the underground parking, Nick getting out before the car was put into park. He started back to his office to get some papers then headed for the boardroom where some of the other agents were already waiting.

"Report..."

"Sketch artist confirms what the witnesses told us. Raiko Hakashi is behind the attack. Apparently we're not the only one looking for your ninja." Agent Deckert spoke up, shuffling his paperwork. "What about your lead?"

"I want to find out everything about the people behind Date Judo and Jujitsu. The kid I spoke with was hiding something." Nick added, taking out his PDA and setting it on the table. "There was anohter man there who definitely wasn't from around here. I need to speak with our sketch artist and sent the result to NSA and Homeland Security. One of them may have an answer." Nick leaned against the table, knuckles to the oak.

"Begging your pardon but what could a kid possibly give us other than the run around?" Agent Pierson asked, leaning back in his chair. Nick started thinking, recollecting what she had said to him.

"She said her uncle, the man that ran the dojo White and I visited, was in Kobe. I want someone to get in contact with Japan's NPA* and grill them for any information on the Date Clan. I don't care how you do it, anything you find out is fine." he half snarled. Agent Peloxi nudged Agent White and showed him his notepad. He had doodled a bulldog wearing an FBI badge around its neck. White had to suppress a laugh.

"Accurate..." he mused to Peloxi.

"While we're on that subject, I want a surveillance team to watch that dojo. It may or may not be the next hit but if we can catch Raiko in the act then we may just be able to kill the weed at the root. Rockhound, your teams ready to roll?" The agents all looked to the Tactical team leader.

"We can be wheels up in five." the ex-Ranger replied.

"More than satisfactory... Any one got anything else?" None spoke up. "Alright... Let's get this new stack of paperwork done..." The agents filed out of the board room and to their respective desks.



*NPA: National Police Agency.
 
"Your name, to begin with," Setsuko replied civilly, in Japanese, as she sat down in one of the two chairs in the cramped office. The seating situation did not allow too much freedom of movement for either of them. It was set up that way so that neither party could make an attack on the other without it being sudden and direct. That way, the other would have a chance to counter, if they were fast enough, that is. This was what people like them considered 'security'. She gestured for Takeo do the same, continuing after he took his seat.

"It's such a hot day, let me offer you something to drink," after all, there was no reason to be rude to this man. Setsuko leaned over to a small icebox her uncle kept some water and food in, and withdrew two bottles of water. She tossed one to him, perhaps a little more quickly than was needed, and opened the other for herself.

"Also, where you are from, and why you are working for my uncle," Setsuko took a sip of the water before speaking again. "I hope you don't mind all the questioning, it's just that my uncle had to leave in a hurry; he did not have time to tell me much about you, and I like to know who comes in and out of this dojo." The woman was smiling politely at Takeo, doing her best to keep the atmosphere calm and casual to better conceal the fact that she was analyzing his every action.
 
"My name is Takeo" he spoke clearly before taking his seat. Setsuko's mention of the weather was accurate but Takeo had barely noticed and nodded when she offered a drink. Shortly after adjusting his chair to scoot a little closer to the desk his hand shot up to catch the fast pitched bottle of water. Although the gesture of a kind host, she was still testing him. Takeo knew that her suspicions were understandable therefore so were her actions. He didn't need to pretend he didn't know anything about martial arts, otherwise Setsuko would certainly pick up on that lie in a heartbeat, it was his potential and lethality that he had to hide from her. Her other questions were direct, as expected. Takeo gestured with a small smile.

"I do not mind the questions at all. It's quite understandable. I came from an old village near a Koga region almost three years ago. I barely knew english when I came to the U.S but was partially fluent in it by the time I arrived in Miami. Still though, it wasn't enough to get other jobs, so I aimed for Dojo's with real Japanese owners that might let me work for them after hours. Your uncle was kind enough to employ me" This was the most Takeo had actually sat down and spoke with someone before killing them, but in an odd way, it was almost refreshing. However, he still had business to attend to and the longer he stayed in front of Setsuko, the higher the chance would be that she would see through his already thin cover. Again, he had to tread carefully and try to excuse himself shortly, and politely.
 
Setsuko listened carefully, not so much as to the words he was saying, but the silence between them. That space spoke louder than words ever could.

People were windows, that's what she had always been taught; some were clear as crystal, others were dirty or broken. Then there was Takeo. Takeo was a dark window. Like wiping fog from glass, Takeo's every word, every breath, every movement, blink, lick of the lips, brought a clearer image to what was on the other side. She was almost there, but there were still too many dark spots to him that she could not see. Most of them would require more time, closer inspection; but there was one spot that she could clear, right now.

"I see. . . Takeo from Koga."

It would just take some force.

In the space it took to inhale and exhale, Setsuko was upon Takeo with such speed and ferocity, that if she had not stopped at the last moment, Takeo's trachea would have been severely damaged by the point of her suntetsu. She paused, the way a tiger pauses to regard a foe; her face only a few inches from his, one knee planted on the chair between his knees, the other on the armrest. One hand held the back of the chair to keep her steady, the other held the metal rod, point first, against his throat (so light, he could barely feel it).

Setsuko's eyes, wide and intense, dug into his, as if stripping him down to his very core. She watched and waited, not saying a word. She didn't need to.
 
"This the guy?" the sketch artist asked Agent Macintyre, showing him the end result.

"Bingo..." the agent replied. "Send it to NSA and Homeland Security. Just for good measure see if Interpol and the NPA know anything about him."

"And if nothing turns up?" Agent White asked.

"We make a rap sheet and give him a name."

-------------------------------

Near Date Judo and Jujitsu...

The van pulled into a parking space, engine cutting. It looked like any other nondescript 'rape van.'

No windows on the rear or side door, no markings to make it stand out. Perfectly nondescript.

Except for the inside. Three agents checked monitoring equipment and began their job of conducting surveillance of the dojo Agent Macintyre had marked. Directional mics and video equipment were recording everything.

If Raiko Hakashi made a move on the dojo the FBI would know it.
 
Sudden but not surprising, Takeo found his throat at the mercy of Setsuko; her speed and skills were indeed remarkable. Takeo's cold stare, however; hadn't changed in the brief commotion. A soft tapping sound came from Setsuko's chest, where Takeo had positioned his chained dagger above her heart, the tip barely piercing her shirt. Takeo stared on into her intense eyes, as if trying to draw her closer to her own death.

The two held quiet steady breaths, waiting for the other to move. In most situations, this was a fifty-fifty shot for either one to come out alive, usually though both died. But Takeo's specialty was not just in dealing death, it was also escape and the unique and surreal use of shadow. The next moment was almost a blur as Takeo's foot shot out kicking the desk and lifted Setsuko off of him just enough for him to lean back, grabbing her arm then flipping them both over to the side. That was all the time he needed, his blade shot out to Setsuko's desk lamp and Takeo vanished, the creaking office door of the darkened office was the only evidence of his escape.

After carefully maneuvering through the alleyways, Takeo made it back to his apartment. Things were getting serious now and he had to move on. He grabbed all the papers off his "wanted" bulletin board and stuffed them into a duffle bag that held the rest of his clothes and belongings. Takeo flipped the bag over his back and pulled down his mask. Cloaked in shadow once again, Takeo flipped the light switch off in this apartment for the last time and disappeared
 
After Takeo had made his escape, Setsuko drew herself up from the floor, just as the other senior students pooled into the office.

"Date-sensei, we heard a crash, are you all right?" The rokudan from earlier was the first to enter the office.

"Yes, I'm fine, our cleaning man was just leaving," the others wanted to question her further, but thought better of it. If they needed to know, she would inform them, in time.

Later, after everyone had cleared out of her office, Setsuko pulled out her mobile phone, idly playing with the tiny hole in her shirt as she listened to the dial tone. Finally, an elderly voice answered in Japanese.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Uncle, it's Setsuko. I just wanted to call to see how everyone is doing?"

"Ahhh, Setsuko! We were just talking about how nice it would be if you were here," she could hear her uncle laughing. "Is everything all right with the dojo? Any good news?"

"Yes, yes, everything is fine. In fact, I called because I had a happy accident earlier. Remember those authentic, esoteric manuscripts you were trying to find? Well, when we were cleaning the dojo, we found them-actually, it was that Takeo person you hired who found them, right there, under our noses the whole time." Setsuko twirled her suntetsu around her palm.

"Really? Be sure to thank him for me, I knew that he would be helpful around the dojo," there was a brief pause, as if he were thinking.

"You know, now that the family is all here, I'll tell them that we were able to find them, and see what we should do with those old things. I'll call you later, thank you."

"Sure thing, uncle," Setsuko closed her phone, leaned back in her chair, and let out a long sigh.

Things were going to get much worse.
 
"You hear that?" one of the agents in the van asked of his partner as they watched the dojo.

"Yeah... Maybe someone fouled up and broke a lamp or something." the other man replied as he went back to eavesdropping on the dojo.

"Well, it is a dojo... No different from the House of Pain* at Quantico."

---------------------------

"No previous records of any crimes, no fingerprints on record, no birth certificate, nothing... And that's just what INTERPOL's given us." Agent White said to Macintyre and the other agents in the main conference room.

"But we do have enough to make a rap sheet." Nick replied, reaching over and taking a sip of coffee. "I want it done and now."

"What name should we give this guy?" Agent Dunsford asked.

"'The Shadow.'" Macintyre replied. "Phantom's taken as is Ghost."

"Ahh, Nick, Russian OMON killed 'Ghost' in Chechnya two months ago. NSA confirmed." Agent Denning piped in.

"Fine, so we call him Shadow Ghost. Regardless, if he moves then I am going to bring down the full wrath of the United States Justice Sytem on his head."

"With all due respect we'd have better chances of doing so if this was Texas." Agent White said. "Easier to get a man executed there."

"We're supposed to be the good guys, remember... As much fun as giving the bastard lethal injection sounds I'd rather he rot in prison until Judgement Day." I have a lot of questions to ask. Nick didn't say.
 
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