Earlier that afternoon, further winds and freezing rain swept across the East China Sea. Across the world, humanity’s many great megacities pierced the skies with towers seeking to challenge heavenly authority. They succeed, but only on a relative, human scale. Anyone cursed to know would reluctantly inform that the true heavens lay unquestionably farther, and laughed at any attempt to reach them.
Shanghai’s sprawling metropolis held many such towers. All were glass fronted, yet due to the angle of incidence, you could never see in past the windows from the ground. Those were windows for looking out of, looking down from—not the other way around. At night, the city took on a new life of neon, a beacon of progress and wonder glaring a sign of defiance. But nightfall had not yet come. The afternoon shielded the earth from the heavens with a thick layer of grey. As the raven flew in from the north, its beady little eyes gleamed at the shining silver spire of LiweiTech Enterprises, a diamond hidden among the rough of other towers. The goliath of steel and glass was indistinct, yet its emblem—engineered for maximum attention—gleamed amid the gloom. The forefront pioneer of China’s extremely early adoption of artificial intelligence in the expedition of logistics, LiweiTech had enjoyed exponential growth in recent times. Close ties to the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology allowed unimpaired prosperity. The prodigal entrepreneur behind it all sat behind his desk on the top floor.
Li Weihao lifted eyes from his monitor and dragged weary legs out from under his chair. The pocket mirror on his desk revealed a few dark hairs poked stray from his prized circular beard. Small, watery eyes narrowed. The flash of tweezers accompanied momentary sparks of pain, eliminating any rogue offenders. Pride came before the fall, but his hairline had only risen as of late.
His doctor had assured him this was natural for his age.
The man massaged both temples, then straightened his corduroy suit. The ridges of brown crinkled pleasingly under his thumb. Approaching the windows at the end of his office, Li cast a gaze out into the endless grey and smiled in defiance. The wind and thundering rain were weakened to a gentle hum against the glass, almost eclipsed by the sound of the office’s central heating. He was untouchable. Not even the elements could reach him here. This quarter’s profits had exceeded all expectations, and the manufactured reports to be submitted to the government’s Corporate Responsibility Initiatives would take the heat off their backs for a while. Their latest expansion, and their largest data centre yet, would spike progress in the development of their latest productivity model. Finagling a deal with the electricity supplier allowed them to clear a large swathe of forest and build the plant on the bank of an undisturbed river. The cover-ups he had engineered ensured the project wouldn’t make waves on the government’s radar, but would be rather lucrative to his friends across the pacific.
Li raised both hands up to his chest, and was just about to interlace the fingers, before both arms flopped against his will. A drop of blood trickled down his spine, as the cold metal pin pierced through his vertebrae. A horrible static robbed all autonomy in his neck, arms and upper back. Soft, measured breathing tickled the hairs on the back of his neck, and a cruel hand clamped down on the opposing shoulder. A bead of sweat trickled down the businessman’s forehead, but he couldn’t even turn his head. A shadowed, angular face glid into his periphery.
“Yāo Shī Zhēn,” announced a voice so metallic yet so human. “The technique has been passed down through my clan for generations, refined like steel.” The tones ground off the back of the throat like a steelworks, refined through the teeth into sharp syllables. “The spine is the junction-box for all peripheral skeletal muscle control. The body is so sophisticated, yet can be manipulated so easily. Even a single pin can render you powerless to move even your own arms.” A finger pressed the pin further into the man’s back, and Li felt all strength leave his legs. Neat leather brogues stepped across the carpeted floor and into his field of view. The boy wore a simple suit, dressed like any one of his employees. Black hair undercut into a meticulous fade was combed back across his head, leaving a single bang to nestle aside a prominent nose. Sharp eyes took no prisoners, and glared with disdain.
Li’s face boggled in fearful recognition. Tendons clenched in his throat, his jaw strained, pulling his expression into something tense and grotesque. “I left no tracks! How on earth did you—”
The cold boy pressed a gloved finger to the man’s lips. “Save your words, Li Weihao. You will need them in your next life as you grovel in the valleys.” He turned the man around to see his office door just as shut as he remembered. “Were you so arrogant to think your feeble countermeasures weren’t detected the moment you started concocting that scheme?” He breathed a derisive laugh. “The Ministers have been following the development of your secret project for some time, and as punishment for your conspiracy have decided to reap its rewards for themselves. Your so-called American stakeholders were government plants, meant to test your loyalty to the long-term prosperity of this country.”
“The building’s security should have—”
“You made a grave error thinking you were above the people’s needs. You knew of the consequences, you knew the price you would pay if you crossed hands blessed with Suo Clan money. There is no excuse. All of what you wrongfully intended to reap has been rightfully returned to the sower.”
Li wobbled and shook, but his body had been robbed of all strength. His lips yammered to find something, any kind of apology, but his face paled as the assassin pulled the silenced pistol from his coat and popped one round clean through both eyes. The CEO hit the floor unceremoniously. Hollowed sockets that had once housed the eyes of betrayal leaked trails of red onto the carpet, staining the fabric forevermore. Flecks of blood stained the glass and the boy’s cheek, which he wiped clean with a corner of white tissue. On the other side of the window, the rain no longer thundered but mourned, wishing nothing but to wash away the sin. But unfortunately for Li Weihao, he was untouchable. Not even the elements could have reached him here.
The assassin dismantled the silencer and stowed both away in his coat. From the opposing pocket, his phone buzzed against his chest. He answered it on the first ring.
“My dear sister. The final act in our seizure of LiweiTech is complete. The traitor is no more. Tell our grandfather that—”
“Please come back to the compound immediately, Tian-Kuo. The American has come with demands.”
* * *
Half an hour earlier, the sea had left Dongzhuang beach. Some hundred yards further out in the bay, where the Yahtzee river finally met the sea, fishing boats had been reeling in their catches close to home—high-paying seaside restaurants not far away would be awaiting their fresh shipment—when an almighty undercurrent swept the water out from underneath them. An earthquake tore apart the unsteady sea, and the boats were upturned and swept aside. From deep on the ocean floor, an almighty torrent of force had done what no king had ever been able to, and parted the waves with their own will.
Gus Ishimatsu had emerged onto the cold, wintry beach with no fanfare, as he needed none. His blistering charge slowed to a jog, then to a standstill, as the perpetual cycling rush of psychic energy within his four limbs began to subside. His entire body had been engulfed in a searing roar, as the culmulative strain of the fourth, fifth, and sixth winds finally took their toll. The man dropped to a knee, and felt the coarse grey sand crunch under his heft. The sea crashed against itself in his wake, sending metre high ripples cascading outwards from his path of arrogance. What was supposed to have taken him five hours by sky, had taken him an entire day by sea floor—but he had emerged victorious. Ashinaga and all the phenomena be damned, he had succeeded despite their petty efforts. Gus took in a deep breath of the heavy city smog, and unleashed a head-aching cough into his sleeve. Pushing up off his knee, he strode ever forward: jaw set, brow furrowed. The headquarters wasn’t far from the coast. All he had to do was walk.
And walk, he did. On Shanghai’s overcast streets, Gus’ stride made the pavement tremble and buckle underfoot. Those who looked up found themselves transfixed at this titan. Far too many, however, remained oblivious to the world, or to the collossal threat that strode among them. Each in their own bubble, pings and whistles captivated the monotonous crowds on the streets, necks contorted downwards as the glare from smartphones distracted their progress to a trundle. Gus paid little attention as he looked over all their heads, but couldn’t help but take notice. There wasn’t a hint of interaction anywhere, not a conversation in sight. They shuffled along next to one another, shoulder to shoulder, the smallest of microexpressions dancing across deadened face before the fleeting sensations evaporated into the ravenous void in search of more.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Gus was perfectly content to ignore them and forge his own path, until one of the unawares walked right into his chest and rebounded to the floor. A sharp anguished cry brought the man back to reality as he hit the pavement hard. The device clattered to the floor, and was crushed underfoot. Gus walked past, arms swinging by his side, as the shouts of protest grated on his ears. The disgruntled owner rushed back up and tugged hard on his jacket, face alight and aflame with demand. Potent psychic energy surged and hummed like a tesla coil. Gus shot out a large hand and seized the man’s face.
With a single squeeze of his hand, the bones crumpled like cardboard. Gus then wheeled around and slammed the man into the side of the building with enough force to drive a crater into the concrete. The entire building resonated and trembled. Gus swept the debris from his suit, leaving shock, screams and sirens in his wake.
Far too many streets later, Gus stood at the foot of another skyscraper. Relatively dwarfed by its neighbours, though not too much, it had a peculiar pentagonal foundation that tapered outwards into an wide observation deck around the twentieth storey. This one belonged to Xiaochu, a reputable insurance firm. This was his destination. Hakana’s information had yet to mislead him; for the man’s own sake, Gus hoped it would remain that way. The glass-fronted doors opened on his approach: a long hallway led to a set of ornate stairs to the first floor lobby. A crowd of associates were milling around deep in peripheral discussion. Gus knew well enough nothing important was exchanged on the ground floor.
“Welcome to Xiaochu. How may I help you, sir?” The receptionist’s face was carefully sculpted porcelain, not an errant spot or detail in sight. Her voice was tinny and undoubtedly rehearsed, and Gus half-expected her to advise him that their conversation might be recorded for training and monitoring purposes.
Gus bowed and stowed both hands in the pockets of his suit. “Suo Laozan,” he demanded. His growl cast a hush across the auditorium.
The receptionist gulped and pressed a button on her desk. “You seek an audience with him?” She clarified, then tapped at her keyboard. Everyone around gave Gus a frightened look. He watched them out of the corner of one eye, and the stark eye contact made a few go exceedingly pale. Torn between haste and quiet, everyone began to shuffle towards both set of twin double doors at the far end of the exit, pushing into the small of each others’ backs and crowding up to the doors. On either side of the lobby, a pair of elevators descended. The sleek digital displays ticked steadily down. The receptionist did her best to look him in the eye. “I regret to inform you, sir, that no Suo Laozan works in this building.”
Gus chewed on his lip. A vein danced on his temple. “Why don’t you try again?” He asked dangerously, in perfect mandarin. “Allow me to repeat myself, I seek an audience with Suo Laozan.” He stressed each syllable of the name, pinching his finger near his larynx for emphasis.
She did as requested, and initiated her search again. With a pair of soft pings, the reinforced elevator doors unveiled a crowd of near-identical suited men who streamed out with unified step and encircled the large man. Still, Gus made no reaction. The receptionist returned her attention to the man and bowed in apology. “My search didn’t highlight anything. If you’ll excuse me, I can take your inquiry higher up. Thank you for your patience.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and made swiftly for one of the doors.
Gus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you waiting for?” He challenged, not bothering to turn around. “Surely you don’t need an invitation.”
“You have gall to come here in broad daylight and attempt to expose our business.” One assailant stepped forward and his comrades followed suit. He pulled a handgun from his pocket and pointed at the small of Gus’ neck. “Make one wrong move and it won’t end well for you.”
Gus’ shoulders sank and the man swivelled on his heel. The circle flinched.
“Don’t move!” Several readied their firearms.
Gus took no heed and stepped up to the first aggressor. The man’s arm didn’t waver.
“What’s wrong?” Gus leant forward, until the cold edge of the barrel was nestled right in the ridge between his brow. “Aren’t you going to shoot?” The man’s skin gleamed with a momentary purple sheen.
“Regret your insolence in hell!” The man pulled the trigger, but he may as well have tried to shoot a wall. The bullet didn’t even have space to leave the chamber. All that pent-up pressure caused the chamber to splinter into shrapnel. The catastrophic bang exploded the handgun into smithereens, taking his hands with it. The assassin was thrown back across the polished tile, bleeding from the shards of metal and plastic protruding from his face. The first round of wasted bullets tore a few shallow gashes across his suit, but pinged off the skin like tictacs.
“For a team of silencers, you’re making an awful lot of noise, aren’t you?” Gus wiped the gunshot residue from the circular metal imprint on his forehead and yawned. “Do you treat all guests this way? I’m not one for semantics, usually, but given I’ve had to cross an entire sea on foot to get here, I suppose I’m feeling a little petty. Japan has a much greater emphasis on hospitality than you seem to, which I find a shame.” His eyes flashed dangerously. “At least in my company, we make sure to kill someone first before making a scene.”
Psychic energy rippled across his skin in a fluid wave. Gus skirted across the tile and seized one man by the throat, crushing his windpipe with a sickly crunch of cartilage before hurling him across the room like a javelin. Skull met skull, and the missile took out another. Mangled shouts rung out across the room as the assassins regrouped and dove for cover, peppering Gus with a hail of bullets. These proved no more effective than the drops of ice from the sky, and only aggravated the man further. One man dove and cowered behind a cylindrical metal bin. Gus marched purposefully forward, picked it up and slammed it down over the man’s head, packaging him like a sardine before winding up a soccer kick and punting him through the first floor window. The men fell one after another. “What the hell is with this guy? He’s completely bulletproof!”
Gus raised a hand and caught the next volley of shots in an outstretched palm. The rounds crumpled into flat brass ends against the immovable object. He clenched his fist and crushed the metal into dust. “All this gunfire is grating on my ears,” he announced, striding over and decking another man in the face with so much force his head exploded. “I’d like to change the tune.”
Soon, the only tune in the lobby were the terrified whimpering and choked screams of the final man, crawling backwards from the approaching Gus, petrified and shaken to his core. His entire unit lay brutally decimated over the lobby, gore coating the polished glass, walls and floor, as well as staining the brute’s hands a wicked red.
“On whose orders were you sent to kill me?” Gus towered over the man.
He retched and choked on his own bile. His face was white, skin prickling as his eyes bulged out from his face. “You’re a monster!”
“I’d like to hear the answer from your own mouth.” Gus cracked his knuckles. “On whose orders—”
“Mine.” One last bullet pierced the face of the remaining man, and all tension in the body evaporated in the mist of his soul. Like all the others, blood mingled with tears in puddles over the floor, along with shards of broken tile. The clack of a thin black cane accompanied the voice, as one final newcomer emerged from the elevator shaft.
Gus lifted his gaze and scowled. “You sent your men to their grave.” He raised his fist.
“I assure you, I sent them to kill you.” The man’s tone was creaky and measured. A sallow-skinned hand stroked grey sideburns along hollow, skull-like cheeks. Intensely narrowed eyes sat under a heavy, wrinkled brow. “But they were unable to fulfil their mission, so they are men of mine no longer.”
Gus spat to one side. “That’s because they’re dead.”
The old man pursed dry lips and stowed the gun back in his robe. The traditional grey and green fabric was expensive, silken and understated, and patterned sparingly with a thin golden outline of hibiscus flowers and winding vines. Emblazoned across the back was the circling body of a dragon, segmented into links like a chain. The cream inner robe was folded across the chest and secured with a sash and a thick rope tied with tassels streaming down from the waist. Wide, billowing trousers were tucked into sleek black boots.
“Indeed.” Suo Laozan nodded, and gave a small bow. “Dead men serve no purpose, Gus Ishimatsu. You still live. Hence, you now have my attention.” He turned back to the elevator, and gestured with a small hand. “Please.”
Gus’ scowl warped into a grin. “Lead the way.”
