Well enough.

The next morning hits like a bad hangover, only without the drink. Your head’s heavy with unfinished thoughts. You get ready for the day, feeling like your actions are 2 seconds behind your thoughts.

The morning that comes after feels like a bad hangover, only instead of it being because of drinking, it’s unfinished thoughts. While you get ready for the day, everything feels like you’re on a 2-second delay. Despite feeling like you throw up at any given minute, you wolf down breakfast before leaving to meet with the Katana Arts Studio staff. The streets are choked in deep, powdery snow.

The museum-turned stadium is all the same, however. The guards inside are leaning back and chatting, just as the dancers have done before, as they always do when it's time to practice – lean back and chat amongst themselves.

You were in a different setting, though. No small talk or banter could drag your mission out of your mind. Kenji came forward when he spotted you and strolled over smoothly and quickly. His suit concealed his ink, but his face revealed all his interest, despite being **** into an emotionless standard. “Any word?”

Behind him, you glance at the troupe of dancers getting back on stage to do their morning warm-up. Sachio is among them; you spot her easily enough, but you also see Akiko climbing the steps, her slender form igniting the night she gifted you her virginity, stirring warmth to burn out the cold in your body. You shift your gaze to meet Kenji’s, however, not wanting to leave waiting. “Nothing. Scarlet’s doing her thing. I’m sure you know her style better than I do. But, personally. I think we need to push Mikka, make him slip somehow.”

Kenji nods his head side-to-side in thought. “I agree, but take extra care. There’s no denying he has friends in this branch of the RTE. Don’t underestimate him, all evidence says he has tricks, and there’s no telling what he’ll try to pull.”

Before you can reply, Mikka and Zuprik stroll in, shaking off snow while laughing at some unheard joke. Mikka’s eyes meet yours as he removes his coat, flashing you a crocodile grin behind his glasses. Zuprik is behind him, his overweight frame slouching slightly as his gaze sharpens. They whisper in a tight circle and go to another small group of RTE guards before going downstairs. Zuprik vaguely gestures to the stage as gentle music plays over the overhead speakers. The Japanese instructors speak to their dancers while a tiny portion of the contractor guards head to the basement.

"Let's split up," Kenji suggests. "I'll tail them below. You keep an eye up here."

You look back at Kenji, your stomach twists somewhat. “What? Why?”

The music above increases volume, just slightly, but enough to muffle the sudden sound of the dancer’s movement on stage. You don’t look, neither does Kenji. He leans forward to whisper in your ear, though. “I want you to go through their coats. It’s not likely they’ve left something in them, but I’m probably better at distracting them longer if they come back up.”

You look at Kenji. You didn’t have a better argument or alternative plot, so you agreed to his plan. Besides, you didn’t have a better place to start, and this wasn’t a bad place to start. All you have to do to shake any worry or fear is recall Mikka’s disgusting desires.

The day goes by without any faults, but there’s still more ahead for you anyway. You still had a meeting with Mikka, and whoever else he wanted to tag along – he had contracted you to some degree, and how well you performed in this task would either make or break your ploy to make him trip. The tricky part was making sure you didn’t sink in the mud in the meantime. You checked your wristwatch, counting the hours that you had remaining before it was time to rally with Zuprik.

The dancers wrapped up, and Sachio appears to be in a good mood. Mikka, Zuprik, and Kenji are nowhere to be seen, though, as you get ready to funnel out to escort the dancers out of the museum-turned-stadium. The next familiar face you see is Akiko, who uses this moment to speak with you. “What’s wrong?” she asks, noticing your searching eyes.

“Just expected Kenji to be here with the rest of us,” you poke your head over her shoulder towards the stage. No one’s there. “Don’t suppose you saw him?”

She shakes her head, following your gaze. “Was he doing something for the company?”

Something for me, you thought to yourself. “I saw him go to the basement, and that was it. He was Zuprik and Mikka.”

Akiko shrugs it off, getting to the point of why she’s approached you. “So, it’s Friday.”

“It is?” You ask. And then confirm, more for your own sake. “It is.”

“No practice tomorrow,” she trails off, hinting. “I can stay up late.”

“I have plans,” you say. “Some boring personal stuff. Gotta resupply my personal stock of ammo, gear, and all that noise.”

You tell yourself it’s not entirely a lie. You did need to resupply, and technically speaking, this could be clarified as “boring personal stuff.” All contracts were personal for an independent contractor. The job, without your added agendas, was tedious, at best.

You’re surprised to see a little grin appear on Akiko’s face when your eyes meet hers again. “I need one of my guards to keep me protected tonight. I think the hotel has ghosts. Please?”