The Arsenal of Democracy, Part 1
The location Delis had given me for the arms deal was right in the middle of a container-laden wharf, flanked by sprawling oil refineries along the Yokohama coastline. Reclaimed land and artificial islands stretched southwest from Haneda Airport, just outside downtown Tokyo, leading all the way to Yokohama. It was a clever place to hide in the dark, nestled amidst the hustle and bustle of countless ships blowing their foghorns daily as they set sail for the Pacific and beyond.
"Still, it is fortunate. Thanks to your proactive measures, My Lady, we were able to slip in unnoticed."
"Well... it's not like I knew this exact thing would happen."
I shrugged at Pavel's flattery. The "slipping in" he referred to was our cover identity. Immediately after learning the deal would go down at the Yokohama docks, I had contacted Ham Cheon-ho. The reason was to change the unloading destination of the Japanese goods specified in our contract—including the CNC machines from Yamazaki Mahjong—to Yokohama. It wasn't particularly difficult. Changing the existing Fukuoka-Busan route to a Yokohama-Busan route was just a minor annoyance.
With the port of call changed, my syndicate members and I could now move in and out of Yokohama Port without raising any eyebrows. I highly doubted the Sumiyoshi-kai yakuza would suspect me, but one could never be too prepared. While the front-line grunts only needed to focus on their given tasks, as the head of the entire organization, I always had to consider the aftermath of our operations.
The primary purpose of raiding the arms deal was, of course, to show Tokugawa Chiyoko just how capable of a mage I was. But if that drew the attention of other mages on the archipelago or the Japanese government? I would absolutely decline. That would be putting the cart before the horse. Even if I couldn't entirely avoid falling under suspicion, I had to establish a solid alibi.
After creating a situation where it wouldn't be strange for my men or me to visit the docks at any time, I summoned some of our intelligence and technical division members from Korea to Japan. Since the information we could gather from London was only a rough outline, we needed boots on the ground to pinpoint the exact time and location. Far from incompetent, my subordinates quickly delivered results. Six from the yakuza side, four from the American mafia. We also confirmed the precise time and location.
The only disappointing part was... we couldn't find out what kind of firearms or how many were being traded. Based on the scale of the transaction, we could only guess it was quite substantial.
"Whatever they are trading, it is deeply reassuring to know that you can intervene at any moment in an emergency, My Lady."
"It would be best if you didn't rely on me and handled it yourself from start to finish, Pavel."
In any case, the only thing I could do for him right now was to cast the thickest defensive magic possible. October 14th, 10:00 PM. Pavel and I headed to the wharf where the deal was to take place. I excluded the other subordinates entirely. There was absolutely nothing to gain from drawing attention. We had to go as a small, elite force.
The Japan Coast Guard patrols were of no help in stopping this deal. Perhaps their surveillance was even laxer today. Though they pretended otherwise, it was an open secret that certain factions of the yakuza cooperated with the establishment. For me, this was actually a good thing.
Nothing blocked our path as we headed toward a rented warehouse inside the wharf, surrounded by colorful containers. There were port CCTV cameras, but the Sumiyoshi-kai lackeys had already disabled them for their own transaction. The very measures they took to ensure their safety ended up shooting them in the foot.
I pressed my body against the outer wall of the warehouse and listened closely. All I could hear was a muffled, low rumble. It wasn't a perfectly soundproofed warehouse, but the distance seemed to be the issue.
"Hmm... looks like we'll have to go in and see for ourselves. Pavel, are you ready?"
"With you watching my back, My Lady, what is there to worry about? Leave it to me."
It was good to see him so confident. The fact that I was the source of that confidence was also quite pleasing. I walked boldly toward the main entrance of the warehouse, my heels clicking on the ground. Just in case, I had brought the necklace made from the modified Spiegel, but it was best to avoid using national relics that left heavy magical traces. Instead, I summoned a magical hand from my shadow and had it grip the lock.
Crunch! The steel lock crumbled like paper. Perhaps they assumed no one would ever come; the security was truly pathetic. I kicked the rented warehouse's iron door with all my might. The door, which seemed like it might hold, tilted and crashed inward. A chaotic clamor erupted from inside. A panicked mix of English and Japanese buzzed in my ears.
"Who is that?!"
"Who the fuck are you?!"
There was absolutely no need for me to politely answer who I was. Instead, I pressed the record button on the camcorder I had brought along.
"Mhm, nice shot!"
Realizing that the uninvited guests had not come with good intentions, the yakuza and mafiosi began drawing their handguns. Some from their waists, others from the floor where they had laid their weapons. Flashes erupted intermittently in the world viewed through the camcorder lens. Each time, a gunshot followed with a slight delay. However, the bullets fired from the suppressed pistols could not slow the confident steps of the two mages.
My soul thrummed. It was thanks to the early warning transmitted by the improved Rosetta Stone, which read the trajectories of the incoming bullets in advance. Amidst the buzzing of the magical early warning, their haphazard, un-aimed shots were nothing but a waste of ammunition, consistently missing their targets.
Tink. Occasionally, a bullet was aimed accurately at Pavel or me, but our defensive magic filtered them out perfectly.
'Isn't it a bit dark...?'
While they were desperately shooting for their lives, that was the extent of my thoughts. A silly worry that our security chief's performance might be recorded too darkly. I conjured a light source in the air right in the middle of the warehouse with magic, and at the same time, I spotted two men flinching in response. Since they felt the magical trace, they were almost certainly mages. Considering that the camcorder was also recording audio, I spoke to Pavel.
"Third from the left on the yakuza side, second from the right for the Yankees. Director Tsoy, there are two of them."
Leaving Pavel, who gave a slight nod, behind, I was about to summon shadows to suppress the ten socially maladjusted thugs—
"Please rest, My Lady. I can handle this."
"Ah, right."
—and stopped myself. Habits are terrifying things. Even though I had intended to leave it to Pavel this time, I had almost summoned my magical hands without a second thought. I chuckled and slowly backed away toward a spot where I could take in the entire battlefield, which would soon turn into a warzone. Just then, I spotted a broken-down, old forklift nearby, with a stack of wooden pallets next to it. The height seemed perfect, so I hopped up onto the pallets and made myself comfortable. Swinging my legs back and forth, I intended to capture Pavel's performance on the camcorder.
...Lady Bronska was watching.
For Pavel Nikolayevich Tsoy, there was no greater motivation than this. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward toward the panicked thugs, determined to put on a spectacular show.
The lines of fire, fraught with death, were clearly drawn before his eyes. Thanks to the relic bestowed upon him by Lady Bronska, he could see exactly when and where to step to avoid getting hit by bullets.
"What the hell are you?!"
"Why won't you die?!"
He didn't know Japanese, but he could understand basic English, having received private lessons from Bloomfeld under the guise of work collaboration. Why wouldn't he die? How could he? His very life belonged to Lady Bronska. As long as the master of his soul did not permit it, he could never die.
The greatest weakness of firearms is that they must be reloaded. A brief lull in firepower was the perfect opportunity to close the distance. Quickly kicking off the ground, he lunged forward and threw a powerful punch at the yakuza in the center.
*Thud!* A clean hit. He could tell just by the sensation in his knuckles, but looking closely, he confirmed it as the man's face caved in grotesquely. At the same time, he quickly fired two Magic Bullets at the mages Lady Bronska had pointed out.
'...Are they still holding strong?'
The Magic Bullets he had confidently fired dispersed before hitting their targets. Partly because he had focused on speed rather than power, but also because the mages didn't seem entirely incompetent. The fact that they were wielding handguns meant they weren't relying on firearms because their magical path was weak. But it didn't matter. Lady Bronska had illuminated the battlefield, utterly dazing the mages. They would need at least two or three more breaths to regain their senses.
He wrenched the handgun away from the yakuza whose skull was shattered and brain rattled, his posture collapsing. He confirmed the magazine had just been inserted, and immediately checked the chamber. Loaded. Even on the verge of collapsing, the man had prepared to shoot perfectly. Without fighting the recoil of his punch, Pavel naturally pivoted. Immediately after, he pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession.
*Bang! Bang!* That made two, then three. As the latter fell, his finger must have clenched on the trigger, letting loose a wild burst of bullets. Pavel immediately shifted his gaze and hurled the handgun at his fourth target. Since the opponent hadn't moved as predicted, it had become an awkward angle to shoot.
Although a handgun weighed less than a kilogram, the impact of throwing it with full force was surprisingly significant. Especially considering the sheer confusion of an opponent who had no idea what kind of crazy stunt this was. Closing the distance until he could see the man's eyes widen, Pavel drove a punch into his abdomen. The man slid backward but didn't fall. He was tougher than expected—
"Urgh!"
It was a swift straight punch from the opponent. While Pavel was momentarily surprised by the man's resilience, his focus had slipped, and the opponent had seized that split second perfectly. Since the punch lacked full weight, Pavel immediately swung his leg. *Crack!* With a satisfying sound, the American mafioso was finally sent flying. That made four.
Though his posture was slightly off-balance from the kick, he turned it into an opportunity. Adjusting his steps, he locked the next target in a joint lock.
"Gah?!"
He immediately used the yakuza, whose arm joint was bent backward, as a human shield. There was no need to waste his defensive magic unnecessarily...! Pushing his shield forward, he took large, sweeping strides. Once the distance closed again, he slammed down the yakuza, who was actively being riddled with new bullet holes.
"Urgh...!"
That made five and six. Only two Japanese and two Americans remained. Their helpless slaughter ended there. Both the yakuza and the mafia began to back away, trying to avoid close-quarters combat. Furthermore, the mages on each side, realizing that Pavel could also use magic, began preparing their magical counters.
Standing in the midst of it all, he briefly assessed the situation. The straight punch he had taken earlier didn't feel like much at the time, but it seemed to have landed a bit harder than he thought. He had been so focused on dodging the ranged firearms that he hadn't expected someone to engage him in close combat as he tore through the battlefield. Fortunately, the other side had suffered just as much—no, far more damage than he had. One of the mafiosi mages Lady Bronska had pointed out was bleeding and gasping for breath. It seemed he had been hit by the stray bullets sprayed when the other target fell. Not bad.
"...Hey buddy, easy. Be easy."
"...Why should I take it easy? If I make one more round, the rest of you will be finished in no time."
The mage was gasping for breath, yet he was urging Pavel to calm down. A proposal for a truce when the disparity in power was so glaringly obvious. It wasn't even worth considering.
"Ah—! These weapons...! We can give you all of these weapons we brought to trade today! We don't need anything else... just spare our lives!"
"..."
Pavel shifted his gaze to the firearms stored some distance behind them. Spare these people just to get those? Ridiculous. He prepared to engage again. Or rather, he was about to.
"That's enough, Pavel. I think we can at least hear them out."
"My Lady...?"
Lady Bronska was standing by the weapon crates in the back. She had clearly been sitting on the stack of pallets in the opposite direction just a moment ago...? Furthermore, the fact that she had addressed him by his name, Pavel, instead of Director Tsoy, meant she had stopped recording.
Lady Bronska opened the weapon crates with telekinesis, inspecting the firearms inside, and then—
"Yankees? Then can I assume you've changed your trading partner from our Sumiyoshi-kai friends to us?"
She asked abruptly.
"Of course! We never had any trust with the yakuza in the first place!"
"Huh? You bastards—"
The yakuza's complaints did not continue. Shadows stretching long from Lady Bronska pierced cleanly through each of their chests.
"—!?"
Their lungs were completely shredded, leaving them unable to even utter a single scream, their deaths marked only by wet, rattling gasps. It seemed My Lady had found something rather interesting in the weapon crates.