Let's try to trip Mikka.

You think to yourself, maybe it was time to it’s time to make Mikka trip up somewhere. You didn’t think his opinion of you was all that high. However, you had to think about something, so it didn’t seem obvious anyway. His low opinion of you’s a hurdle, but you need a subtle play, nothing obvious. Your gut churns as you wonder if you could use sex as an excuse to start working for him somehow. Your gut churns—could hinting at a dancer’s “availability” lure him into a deal?

The next morning begins dawns dark, the sun struggling to break through the slate above clouds. Overcast dulls the surroundings, temperatures remain in the negatives, dipping as the breeze cuts deeper deeper with the biting breeze. Nonetheless, work is work, and the travel is short. Work calls, the walk short. Strapping your Glock to your hip and fetching your coat, you make it back to reach the museum where Katana Arts Studios has housed all of it’s Studio hosts its events, shows canceled.

The main hall is quiet with hums, tired murmurs and softer soft Japanese conversations. Sachio is no where to be seen’s nowhere in sight, and neither is nor are Mikka or his other dogs, Zuprik included. Akiko, however, is there, alone and tucked away, not looking sad but out of place as her colleagues and “fellow” Japanese troupe converses. Your eyes meet; her smile twinkles, inviting. You don’t want her to think all you wanted was the sex, there was more than that it’s just sex—there’s more to you.

You turn to meet her, but she snaps away from your gaze. Before you can wonder why, the answer blocks you. You step toward her, but her smile falters, gaze snapping away. Kenji blocks you, cranes his neck and makes a face, looking oddly human craning his neck, oddly human. “I can’t find Sachio.”

“Missing?” you blanch.

“Not missing,” Kenji confirms. “I just haven’t seen her all. Mikka and Zuprik are in the lower levels doing patrolling below, so I know she’s not around either of with them.”

“Strange,” you trail off, catching Akiko’s fleating fleeting glance over Kenji’s shoulder. “Maybe Akiko knows.”

Kenji nods, a smirk curling, in the corners of his lips faint and fleeting. “Am I interrupting?”

Your gaze flicks back to his eyes, but it’s gone now dull, his contractor mask concealing emotion and thoughts, but you squint your eyes slightly, swearing he was smiling at your motion towards Akiko back in place. “I’ll ask. You can look around. Try backstage with the regular staff, where the food is staged, near catering.”

Kenji nods slowly. “Should’ve checked there.”

You wait a few seconds, then move to approach Akiko, making sure you didn’t look too **** to chat with her. Your seriousness falters when she see’s you however, she’s already smiling, practically shaking with joy as you close distance not too eager. She beams, practically vibrating—if she were a dog she’d be waging her tail. If she were a cat, she’d rub against your leg… If things were different, she’d be hugging you like a dog wagging its tail, a cat brushing your leg, or hugging you, if things were different.

Akiko’s dark hair is pinned up gracefully; she’s dresses dressed warmly, still in her casual clothes, with her duffel bag laying between her feet. “Ohayō,” she chimes, with a perfect smile, a subtle bow bowing slightly, smile radiant.

“Good morning?” you ask, questioning her greeting, she smiles brightly and thanks you, mistaking the question as a response you echo, teasing her English. She beams, mistaking it for a reply.

“When are we going to go out can we drink again?” She stays where she is, but is screwed tightly to you her eyes lock on you, voice eager.

“I’d like think to think sometime soon Soon,” you lower your voice just so no one hears you. “But I’d like it more if you keep your voice down. It’s not exactly… you know? Accepted for either of us to be seeing each other Us… seeing each other’s not allowed.”

Akiko looks down. “You’re right. But… when?” There’s a sheepish, mischievous grin on her lips when she looks back.

“I could possibly get some Maybe I’ll grab drinks and come to visit your room?” you say, keeping your voice low, but your posture casual you murmur, posture casual.

She beams at you with a white and flashy smile. “My room, mm?”

You shrug, trying to look nonchalant. Akiko teases, the notion of thinking hard and shrugging. “Guess that’ll do. Tonight?”

“11?”

“11?” she gasps, looking genuinely grumpy, about it troupe curfew strict. “Is that the Only time it’d that works?”

“Just so I can to sneak in…”

After a bit more thinking She ponders, then reluctantly nods. “11.”

Before anyone can notice you lingering next to Akiko for too long notices, you both step away from each other and begin your own resume routines. And it The day drags, uneventful, and there’s a lot of with constant searching for Mikka. Kenji’s off doing his own thing searching while you steal a few peaks peeks at Sachio, whenever she’s spotted now back, making sure she’s not speaking to Mikka or acting strangely ensuring she’s clear of Mikka.

Eventually, as the routine hits a lull, you make your way toward Mikka. As he strays from Zuprik and stands alone, he starts smoking. Your eyes meet, and he stiffens, straightening his back. Puffing out, he exhales a wispy cloud before speaking.

“Mikka,” you say, your voice low as you join him, you say, voice low, stepping closer. “RTE’s not paying me enough for this gig.”

He looks at you with a lifted eyebrow, then speaks after a shrug. “Money can’t be any better for a job this easy,” he says. “Thinking of a side hustle?”

“I might be,” you offer, stuffing your hands in your pockets before looking around. “Don’t suppose you’d know side jobs that require some help, needing help?”

Mikka scoffs, looking around before stowing the cigarette back between his lips. “Not sure if anyone with your standards would want to help,” he says with a slight jab. “Unless the boredom’s getting to you and you want to make real money.”

“Well,” you chuckle. “Maybe this lull has me missing all the action again. Get me?”

Mikka nods, his grin going crocodile-wide. He puffs and exhales, pushing his suit jacket back as he nods. “I might need you to do other things before moving you around. I had other options that I had to utilize since ‘that night.’ If you know what I mean.”

“I’m not looking for names,” you lie, now curious who else he’s got directly tangled in this crude, shitty game. “What’s the job?”

A little laugh boils out of him. “This is much better than you telling me fuck off, Visser,” he shifts, looking for shadows, likely Kenji.

“Cash talks louder than pride, especially as a contractor,” you shrug to yourself, playing the role he wants. Scarlet’s cards were in motion now. “So, what is it?”

“Have to ensure I can trust you before we get to the juice. Get me? Now… I have some girls that owe me a favor if you don’t want cash—or something sweeter, if cash ain’t your thing,” he says. “After this patrol and guard shift’s over, why don’t we meet in the hotel lobby for the finer details?”

“If that’s what it takes. Fair enough,” you murmur, feigning disinterest. “What time are you looking for?”

“Keep it simple. How about dinner instead? Can we share a table instead and chat? I can get Zuprik belted in, and you and I can work together on the job I have in mind.”

“Is the job split?”

“Zuprik isn’t a contractor, he’s on RTE payroll. You’re getting full credit cut, 500 dollars, and you get to open up that door a shot at her,” his eyes flick to the stage, and he smiles widely. “Christ, I want my hands on that one so bad.”

You follow his gaze and spot Sachio stretching, her lean, slender body arching, her pert chest amplified as she yawns, a long and loud yawn that echoes loudly to your circle. Nearby, Akiko stretches, talking to another girl and looking annoyed.

“Listen,” Mikka grabs your shoulder with one hand and points at you with another. “I think this could be something amazing. I got a bunch of RTE peeps who want to leave. This whole operation out here is borderline brain-dead. I’ll tell you my plan later, though.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” you say. “As long as I’m not backstabbed…”

Mikka’s grin grows wider. “You’re my ace as far as I’m concerned, as long as you don’t backstab me, either.”