honne

Hiya! 

My name is Jaclyn Pierrot and I’m a piece of shit.

At least that’s what some people would have you think. I like to think of myself as sensitive, kind, and willing to babysit your kids for a fee. Okay -  a ransom. The .44 magnum tucked into the back of this monkey suit they've jammed me makes the metal detector snitch like a canary in a coal mine, so I quickly take stock.

Three guards, unarmed.

Peripheral cameras on a close feed system.

Six witnesses - one hostage.

I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck as they stand on end. The sound of the waterfalls that formed a facade in front of the walls became a roar as I ready myself for the rumble. I hold my breath.

Fortunately, though, the guard with the Groucho stache waves us past as this long-necked conservative bitch I am with brandishes a badge. It says she’s some sorta big shit from DC, but give me a roll of duct-tape and a blowtorch and I'll get more done for the United States in a few seconds then most of these pricks get done in their whole career.

Margarine Tamborine Gold - New Jersey’s answer to Foghorn Leghorn. She is the majority shareholder for the Jersey Water Corporation - maker of my personal favorite brand of alcoholic beverages, High Water. Double the caffeine as a cup of coffee, enough sugar to make a senior citizen’s dick hard, and three times the alcohol as your average American beer, nothing gets your girl ready for a game of pop-pop-bang-bang-oh-no-she’s-reloading quite like it.

She casts another glare my way. Her beady little pig peepers could stand to be prettied up with a pair of punches - but there will be plenty of time for that later, so I give her my best grin as I glance back at the monitor.

Three cameras aimed at the elevators.

Four at the lobby.

A mob of men could storm the building, but the big button tucked underneath the desk says they would likely be shut off from the upper floors. Brute force could only take them so far before it became a futile firefight and a blip on the evening news.

The elevator doors open and I slip inside with the senator hot on my heels. I would have to suffer through seventeen stories stuck in this box smelling the walking cloud of Virginia Slims and Liz Claiborne without bashing her brains in, but if I could suffer through eating at Arbys, I could suffer through anything. Who could ever possibly claim I wasn’t a consummate professional?

“Hey, you think they got taffy?” I ask. She doesn’t reply, turning her back to me instead as the steel slides shut, sealing me in with the stench. Sometimes I amaze myself with what I am willing to put up with just to make a measly buck.

“And a pardon,” she had said, her face slick with sweat, unaccustomed to the thick, humid air that Everglade City was known for. She had made it sound so easy - sign a contract, break a few faces, make some money - but nothing ever is as easy as it seems.

As the light moves from button-to-button, the only indication beyond a small jolt when it begins that the elevator is rising, my mind starts to wander. Have you ever realized how many horror movies Justin Long is in? I don’t know what it is about him, maybe it’s his face, maybe it’s the way his voice sounds, but every time I get to watch that man die. I instantly get wet - emotionally speaking, of course. Just thinking about the sound of his screams…

“You ever seen that movie Tusk?”

No response - how rude.

The elevator slows to a halt and a ding signaled that fresh air can soon fill my lungs. As the doors open up, my expectations immediately turn to disappointment. All those floors. All that flash. And what did it lead to? Some plain, minimalistic, and if I may say so myself, fucking boring office.

A row of black filing cabinets stand underneath a hanging scroll, with only the letter Z written in a large, stylized font. Behind a small desk - adorned with only a single bonsai and a MacBook Pro - sits another suit in a skirt smiling our way. A slender woman, her black hair is pulled up into a tight ponytail, locked in place by a shimmering diamond encrusted clip.

“We’re here to see Mister Tanaka,” Marge says.

“Yes, miss Gold, right this way,” the woman straightens her dress as she shimmies out from behind the desk, a slight stagger to her step which she does her best to hide. She opens the door, stepping aside - bowing her head slightly -  before closing it behind us.

Kazou stands, stretching his arm out to offer us the seats across from him. Margarine takes his hand while I take my seat, dropping down into the plush leather before popping my feet up onto his desk. It’s funny: you can fill a home with animal parts and people praise your purchasing prowess, but mount one human head and suddenly you’re the animal.

“You got any taffy?” I ask.

Marge was big mad her presentation went to shit, though really she shouldn’t be surprised since she has the personality of a stone dildo.

“I think that went well!” I lie.

She slaps the already-lit up button, I guess believing that it was like the unfortunate men she lured into her bed and would do anything to get her to stop touching it. The door finally closes and I take a deep breath, hoping to hold it until we reach the lobby. However, she hits the Stop button and halts the progress before it can even begin

“Listen here you…fool,” her hand jabs at my chest as she sputters, a thick wad of saliva landing in my eye, causing it to instantly start to sting. Her hand grabs my chin, forcing me to have to look into her shit brown eyes. “You are not here to think. You are not here to speak. You are here to do as you are told.”

“Has anyone told you you have beautiful eyes?” I offer. She glares at me, causing the crows feet that line the corners of her eyes to stretch out, showing her advanced age, “Yeah, I wouldn’t think so.”

Her grip relaxes and she starts to step back, but then she does something I would have never expected: she slaps me. This bold ass bitch got it in her jockeys to hit me. Me! Of all the goddamn nerve! I jam my revolver into her jowl-line, the steel sinking into the sagging skin. The blood drains from her face and I can feel her start to shiver as the hammer slides back.

“You know what happens if you pull that trigger,” Margarine says, doing her best to look brave so I walk her through the motions, pantomiming her pain with my face. She swallows deeply, “You ever been to a Japanese jail, Jacky? Possession of that firearm alone will net you ten years. Tack on assassinating a sitting senator?”

She’s standing, but I'm not the kind of person to split hairs - that’s what the gun is for. I finger the trigger as sweat starts to trickle down her face. That bravado they all bring falls away in that final moment when negotiations turn to prayer. Marge closes her eyes, but I prefer when they watch, wishing away the bullet.

After watching the trembling pig work through the steps that led her to her slaying, I decide to take mercy - for now. There would come a time when we would need to rehash this indiscretion, but I’d prefer to do that a bit more discreetly. I slip a second bug from my pocket and plop it into hers before pinching her nose, tucking the gun back away.

Frazzled, the senator straightens herself off, pushing her hair back over her shoulders before brushing away her tears. The bluffing begins again: “I have a novel idea, Miss Pierrot: do as you’re told. You get your pardon - I get my money. We both win and you walk away, free to get arrested for petty larceny or whatever you do for fun.”

“That sounds like a terrible novel,” I say. Can you imagine someone’s spending their time to write that story out?

“Did you plant the bug?” Margarine asks, causing me to smile.

I hand over the receiver, but not without first having a bit of fun, pulling it just out of her reach. She jerks it out of my hand. “Win the match. Get the contract. Should be simple enough, even for someone like you,” finally, she presses the button to start the elevator and my lungs scream with joy at the thought of being able to breathe once more. “You got all that?”

“Yep,” I answer, pulling a piece of lemon-lime taffy from inside my blouse before popping it into my mouth.

Win the match.

Get the contract.

Then stab her right in the back - just the thought of that made me wet, emotionally speaking, of course.

“You ever seen that movie Barbarian?”

When the door opens, she makes as much distance as she can, practically sprinting towards the door. And here, I thought we were just starting to become friends.

An impromptu press conference on the stairs outside the Zamphour Corporation almost made me miss the train. Okay, maybe it wasn’t wise to have presented our brand with a bang banner - but what better way to get people's attention?

I look down at the two tickets in my hand, a fine for causing the panic with the firearm finale and another which I scan before pushing through the turnstile.

The trip from Tokyo to Nagoro would take five hours even taking the Shinkansen. I grab a pack of gummy bears and a pair of edible panties from the vending machines - one to snack on and one as a souvenir - and board the train.

The white pleather seats were separated by a narrow row, two on one side, suited for couples and another single for solo travelers. I slump down in one of the singles and watch as a few fellow night time travelers board the train. Weary and worn, they now await a lengthy ride just to wake up and do it again. Part of the paradox of the land of where the Sun was Born.

Urban sprawl - the metropolitan area spreads, but with the growth comes opportunity. When prosperity spreads in one area, however, it slowly seeps away from another. Towns and villages once known for their self-sustaining economy find their futures fading away as their fledgling flock towards the money.

The train starts to move - a child’s shrieks pour down the aisle and I close my eyes. As much as I’d like to walk away from this all, there was too much at stake to simply slink away. If Marge Gold had been able to figure out where we were hiding out once, it wouldn’t take much for others to follow. The infant's shriek begins to subside so I open my window and look toward the sky.

If I look hard enough I can almost see home. Moonbase Alpha - it’s been months since I left and lost contact with troops. I know Tank and Trevor are still working, still waiting but when would I have another opportunity to steal a rocket? 

“Would you like a drink?” one of the attendants asks. I shake my head and they move to the next person.

One thing at a time.

Two matches. Only one should matter, but I have something else in mind. Margarine may need the contract, but if I have Bugs and Thumper skin up the cat before she hits the curtain, Luna and I should have no trouble taking Yamada down. Marge gets her money and me and Luna laugh and hug and bond over this moment making it all the much easier for her to offer me her back. In every den of thieves, there’s one scorpion and there’s no honor amongst arachnids.

With that out of the way, the real fun can begin. They say all is good in love and war, but what happens when they become the same? Six savage animals stuck in a cage - there won’t be peace only pieces as they pick themselves apart so sometimes it’s the one who watches and waits that walks away. Once we make quick work of Ohka, it’ll be every dog has its day, so better to pick them apart quietly. If you can poison the pack, the survivors will make for easy prey.

Shinobu seems to want to set her up as Shokus right arm, but me? I want to take her head. If everything I’ve heard is true, it’s kill or be killed with that one so better to set the stage - earn her trust - then send her to an early grave. This would all be easier if I had the Rabbits, but it’s slim pickings so Bugs and Thumper will have to do and once she’s out of the way these fools will have no choice but to follow their true leader.

We start to exit the city, exposing the stars in the sky. The lights in the cabin are dimmed - the next stop over an hour away. Then four more remain.

I have to wonder what Shiori Shoku had in mind when she reached out, but she doesn’t seem the type to have not done her research. Betrayal is a symptom of trust, so she’s sure to see me coming, but Kaede and her family may give me the upper hand. Powerful friends means powerful allies and if I want to overtake that enterprise…

Once thing at a time.

The child starts to scream as the voice comes over the intercom, directing passengers on arrival times, restroom locations, and wifi access.  I take a look at my phone - no messages. Unusual to not hear from Thumper at least once during the day. I shoot him a quick message and stare out the window.

Was it worth all this work? I know it’s serious business, but I can’t help but smile. Peeling open the wrapper, I take a bite out of the cherry flavored panties. They say if you do what you love you’ll never work a day in your life and nothing made me happier than those moments in the ring. The audience, the applause, and the ability to commit legal homicide if you try hard enough - what was there not to love? The victories that violence brings, the blood, and the agony - it’s enough to make me wet. Emotionally speaking of course.

I glance at the phone. No response so I take another bite before closing my eyes. The voice on the intercom causes the child to scream once more reminding me that five hours still remain.

A hand shaking my shoulder shifts me from my sleep. My eyes open to a wide-eyed attendant who has for some reason wrapped one of my hands around his throat and forced the barrel of the gun between his teeth. I forgive his indiscretion and take back my hand, concealing my carry on once more. With the sun down, my reflection can be seen clearly in the window - the half-eaten panties I had been working on have stuck to the suit top.

The attendant starts to sob, probably feeling guilty for putting me in that position, so I peel the leftovers from my shirt and hand it over. Hesitantly, he takes it. His entire body is trembling as I step off the train, leaving him to his tears as the train begins to move away from the station.

It’s cool still in the mountains, and quiet, all save for the high-pitched, monotonous chirping of the crickets that drills into your brain and the bullet train that barrels off into the distance. There’s no sign of Thumper so I borrow one of the cars from the parking lot, using the butt of my .44mm spare key. That old familiar feeling in the tip of my fingers as I connect the wires and the car sparks to life.

It’s a short drive to the village, made shorter still if you ignore the suggested speeds. Something seems strange, though - no calls, no texts - so I slow it to a half, flicking off the lights as I approach. In the clearing just before the village, a black helicopter with a large red Z emblazoned on the side sits abandoned. I have a good idea where I can find its passengers, so I ditch the car and enter on foot.

Nagaro Village. As close to a ghost town as you could get, the villagers that remained had made a peculiar decision to replace the decaying population with large, life sized replicas. Stuffed with straw, the citizens of the past haunted the streets giving it its nickname: The Doll Village. Rumor has it that even though all the living inhabitants have long since left, the dolls themselves continued to live and thrive. Strange things happen in the village at night. Dolls will move or go missing without explanation, only to appear once more. Whispers. Voices. Visions. It’s like a dream come true.

The light to the town hall practically glows in the dense darkness, so I set off to see what all the fuss is about.

“Miss Pierrot,” Kazou says as I step into the room. He has taken a seat on the sofa. Thumper and Bugs kneel in front of him, their hands held behind their heads in surrender and I see why. A pair of grey suit goons have them pinned, wielding what looks like a modified uzi. “Come in,” he offers, sliding his hand inside his jacket. He pulls a piece of candy from his pocket, “Have some taffy.”

Kazou throws it into the table in front of him.

“Aw, how sweet,” I say, feeling for my gun, “You remembered.”

“You made quite the impression,” he says, snapping his fingers. The barrel of a gun touches the back of my neck. I stop my search. “Don’t worry, it’s just a toy.”

My piece is pulled from the back of my pants, which sounds somewhat sexual when you say it out loud. The man behind me gives me a shove.

“How does it work?” the deep voice asks. I take a look over my shoulder to see him sighting the barrel.

“Just pull the trigger, it’s very straightforward,” I suggest. The explosion causes Kazou to jump and a pair of uzis turn my way as the Aristocrat tumbles to the floor, landing against my boot.

“Oh, I think that’s the wrong gun!” I admit, “Did you want me to pick that up?”

Kazou smiles, relaxing once more back into the sofa. He lifts a piece of paper up from the armrest, raising it for me to see. My own handwriting - I guess he found my note: ‘Call an exterminator.’

“Please,” he says, extending his hand to the much less comfortable recliner, “Take a seat. It seems we have business to discuss, you and I.”

I grin, plopping into the seat. On the table, there are several pictures of Margarine Gold. Kazou Tanaka pulls a small folder filled with cash from his coat pocket, plopping it down next to the taffy.

Business indeed.