“I have long feared my sins would return to visit me, and the cost is more than I can bare.” - The Patriot
V/O: We each have one incident in our lives that we regret to this very day. If you’re particularly lucky, as I am, you have blood stained pages filled with stone black ink and chapters closed. I have a tattoo on my ribs, “The blood on my hands is not my own”. It’s not meant to be cute, but a warning. The skin of my hands is stained the blood of every wretch I’ve broken and beaten. But it’s never quite as simple as “the one”. Not when you’re dealing with me. No. I’ve got faceless names, nameless faces, what they looked like alive, all in one piece. Some even have addresses where I send a bouquet until the florist calls to give me the news that future deliveries would not be necessary. I have short hand notes, scribbles, all through my planners and journal, each one unique and with purpose. Dark, shameful, hurtful memories that don’t deserve a broader canvas. Despite all of this, my hubris of humanity was my downfall. My body broken on the pavement, the car totaled and shattered. Electricity moving at the speed of sound and light, converging on one universal spot, and in that second a violent crack shattered the atmosphere.
“No…nononono…..fuck…fffffuck. You monsters. She was innocent! SHE KNEW NOTHING!!”
The stinging rain made my wounds burn. I knelt beside her, rocking back and forth holding someones sister, cousin, daughter…friend. I could feel the intense burn as her blood now stained my hands and would never be washed away. Finality. You’ve ferried another poor fool home. I gently set her down, covering her body as best I could out of respect and slunk away from the scene before johnny law rolled in. I was soaked to the skin and freezing. Scurrying through back alleys like a drowned and desperate rat. I took a moment to stop, pressing my back against the cold, slimy bricks
“This can’t be happening. The debt was settled. I still have the marker!! No. This reeks of a new challenger. Someone close to that little situation with the debt.It’s a short list of names, but I need to work fast. Safehouse.”
The glow of the neon signs hanging overhead sprawled out like a vibrant crackhead highway. Working girls, toughs and pushers with their sweet little slice of debauchery. I slithered my way through, all the while racking the deepest recesses of my brain to remember where the closest safehouse was and if I was still on good terms with the owner of said safehouse. I grabbed a table cloth as I passed by wrapping it around my head and shoulders, part to put something between myself and the stinging rain and to change my appearance. Better safe than executed. The surrounding noodle shops and tea vendors began looking familiar and friendly. I was amongst allies. I noticed the blinking and flickering neon sign above the non-descript white concrete building. I made my entrance, signed the paper in the waiting room and took a seat
VO: We live in a world where nothing is as it seems and everyone has a price. Idle hands do the devil's bidding and even those who have their heart set on the best of intentions, are sure to stumble and fall when presented with an opportunity to change our luck;. Hence why Lady Luck is considered to be such a fickle, thankless whore. Then there’s the fixers. The silent shadow that has fingers in many pies. A vast sprawling network of friends of friends, a guy who knows a guy, has a farm up north you can use. Cliche as it all sounds, it is the way of life. You need a fixer? You find a fucking back alley hole like this. Until they call you to the window you sit there in that tiny fucking waiting room, your skin crawling like you’re going through heroin or coke withdrawls. You sit and itch at the skin on your arms with each new scratch a bolder, reddening line. The frosted glass window pulls open slowly, a thin, wrinkled hand reached out, picking up the sign in sheet then setting it back down.
“The doctor will see you now.”
The door opened automatically as I stood to make it to my next destination. I calmly but briskly walked through, making sure to keep my head down. The hallway seemed endless. Just door after door until we finally came to an open and empty one. I shuffled in, set my belongings on the short counter and sat on the edge of the exam table. We exchanged pleasantries in silence. I couldn’t tell if my solicitor was a male or female. It didn’t matter. They left quietly and left me there to mull everything over
Elizabeth: Bleeding Christ. What the fuck was that? You’ve crossed a lot of people in your time girl, but none of them have ever gone as far as to just execute a poor kid that was in the wrong place, wrong time. I thought my slate was clean. I paid premium for that fuck up in Bangkok. The marker was cleared. This is new business. Something and someone I’ve overlooked. How careless of me. But…whom?
The door to the small room opened and an older woman came in, curtly closing the door behind her. She sat on the stool, sett her tablet down on the counter and turned to face me
“Miss Devereaux. A pleasure. It has been quite some time since you have graced one of our establishments. Obviously you are in need of services, will this be on your account or your fathers?”
Elizabeth: Mine. I need a cleaner. Quite a mess was left behind. Yakuza brand of violence. One fatality, female. I need a cover and a ride.
“I see. I would like to assist you in your plight but there first is the matter of the edict code…if you would please?”
Elizabeth: Edict Code 26. Execute.
“Ah yes, very good. Edict Code 26 recognized. Please use this room to clean up and an escort will be with you shortly. Be seeing you.”
V/O: In every low rent district in every town all across the world these dens of sin and desperation exist for the sole purpose of keeping the real world turning. This was above petty thugs and small time crime lords. It was the Yakuza, and I either had something they wanted or owe them penance for a slight. Things went quiet after I was shuttled home, back to Azami…and Devon. I had my suspicions. The attack was bold and meant to send a direct personal message. It wouldn’t be the first time he took aim. A few days pass and everything seems to be back to normal. Except that young woman is still dead. Everything that happened, happened. It wasn’t a dream. I took time away, traveled with my husband. The importance of certain things shifted after the attack. While spending time with my dearest was the cure I needed to process the things that happened, it was still lingering in the back of my mind, as it should. Nagging my innermost thoughts. It picked away at me until I understood what it was trying to tell me.
The rain splashed against the floor to the ceiling window, plastering the side of the building in thick droplets that cracked as they smashed against the tinted glass. My forehead pressed against it. The skies were dark and ominous. This wasn’t even the worst of the storm yet, it was just beginning. Figuratively and literally. I wrapped my cold, aching body up in an oversized blanket hoodie and tried to toast my soul. I heard the bedroom door open and close quietly
“Lass, we got some problems. I just got chased down by Yakuza goons, looking for you and clearly anyone close to you. We need to get to Azami and Devon. I don’t know what fuckin’ trouble you got started this time but those Yakuza boys mean business. What are we doing?”
Elizabeth: Right now, nothing. We continue as normal. If they detect a change in pattern and behavior it will signal distress and they will put the screws harder. We need to stick to the script. Our little vacation is done, we head back to home tomorrow. I’ll get back in the grind of the business. In the meantime lets not say anything to Azami or Devon yet. I need more time.
Eoin: More time? For what?
Elizabeth: To be sure. I have to be sure.
Eoin: About who? What? Lizzy me girl you aren’t making sense.
Elizabeth: I need to make sure it is Erika. Azami’s sister. Now do you understand? You are to stay SILENT until I know for sure. Do I have your word?
Eoin: Of course love. My lips are sealed. We’ll keep it close to our chest until later. So what? We head back to Tokyo tomorrow, you start training and head back to UW?
Elizabeth: Exactly. Go back to business, conduct some business in the battle. Remind them who I am, that I’m back and I’m here to play hard. Same old same old. One of the best still in the business doing it. If only I could just be left the fuck alone for once. It always happens like this. Some bitch gets a twinkie up her coot to start some shit with me or try and settle some shit with me and then I have to sidetrack my entire fucking planner to deal with it. I’m used to jealous nobodies, braggadocious wanna be’s but this, this is Erika Sato, the Death Dealer. I feel that target burning holes in my skull. I have to know for sure.
Send for Devon. I…need his help….