:Paradise
There was something about the hotdogs in Central Park, something magical. They could hold your attention for such long periods of time simply by looking appetizing, letting off a little steam now and them, and slowly rotating clockwise over a hot grill. It was like watching those cheesy TV magicians place people into hypnosis. Saito Mieage pondered this and he slowly twisted them around and around from behind the small, white cart that the department had issued to him the previous day. He was meant to wait another hour for dusk, and then observe some small time punks from the Pierced Crows selling drugs to stupid teenagers. He was thankful the chief had given him this opportunity to actually work on his own for once. Bill Bradson was a hard ass to everybody, but deep down people knew he was a decent guy. Saito thought back on all the time he’d spent in jail, thought about the irony of the fact that he was now working with the law instead of against it. He was twenty-six now, and it had been two years since he’d been given his badge. Back then, he’d almost hit rock bottom, most people only get three strikes, Saito had earned himself at least six. But Chief Bradson gave him a new opportunity, a means of changing his life, and Saito took it. He didn’t know why this had happened, maybe it was because the chief respected Saito’s strange form of vigilante justice, maybe it was because he was short on men who could kick some good old-fashioned ass, or maybe it was something innate, some instinct of some kind. Regardless, something about the chief just seemed trustworthy to Saito, so he followed him with a discipline that his fellow officers looked upon with respect. For the next year and a half he never worked alone, and the department’s careful eyes were always watching him. The chief probably wanted to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake giving Saito a job. But today, today Saito had this one all to himself.
He looked down, realizing that he hadn’t been paying attention to the hotdogs, two of which were now horribly burned, for the past ten minutes. He sighed, throwing them over his shoulder and into a nearby trashcan. As he reached into the depths of his cart to grab some new ones, something caught his eye. There were four of them, maybe 50 yards into the trees, Saito guessed them all to be in their late twenties, a real punk-looking group. They we pushing around a much younger looking teenage girl. Saito had been told not to break his cover until he saw any sign of illegal substances, and the dealers he was looking for we’re meant to show up for another 50 minutes or so. He looked to see if any other officers were in the area. ‘Where’re the cops when you need them?’ he thought. He couldn’t just sit there; the girl had started shouting for help. The four guys were laughing at her, they’d taken her purse and were in the process of emptying it. She tried to run, they caught her by the hair and started smacking her around. That was it, the last straw, Saito’s mind had hit the critical point where he became completely emotionally driven. He hated violence against women, it reminded him of his sister, of the bullet that so prematurely took her life, and he was mad. He jumped over the hotdog stand and rushed the four guys faster then the blink of an eye. Two of them were down before the third could even react, and all he had time to was yell before Saito had landed his fist square on his face. The fourth guy simply looked at his three broken comrades and fainted.
Saito walked back to his hotdog stand and grabbed four pairs of handcuffs out of a secret compartment on the bottom. He spoken into the grill, calling for backup and two cruisers. He knew he was in some deep shit, now no gang member would show his face in Central Park for at least a week, that’s the way it worked whenever the police showed themselves. But he still felt good about saving the girl. He waved to her from his cart, she was still sitting on the ground, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. Saito figured that watching a five foot eleven Japanese guy who weighed maybe one hundred sixty pounds take out four large punks in less then a minute might be a little shocking. He smiled and walked over to her, holding out a hotdog.
Three hours later Saito was sitting in the office of a very tired-looking, very angry Chief Bradson. He felt like a child compared to the six foot eight brown haired giant standing in front of him. The man had a vein on his forehead that was quickly reaching critical mass.
“You’re out of line Saito, I didn’t give you the freedom to work on your own so you could screw up sensitive jobs like this!” he yelled. Saito remained starring quietly at the floor. “Well!? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Uhhh… ummmmm… No… Not really…” Saito replied, sheepishly. He almost laughed at how childish he sounded, but he managed to hold it in.
“Your ass is lucky those punks were members of the Pierced Crows. We’re interrogating em right now.”
Saito’s eyes widened. ‘How lucky I am,’ he thought. “Really? What are we doing here? Let’s go see what they have to say.” He leapt for the office door.
Chief Bradson almost called out to stop him, but he decided that Saito’s enthusiasm proved that he wasn’t trying to screw things up, at least not intentionally. He smiled, thinking about the young man who he’d just been screaming at. ‘To think that this guy was once considered one of the most merciless killers New York had to offer,’ he thought. He walked slowly out of the room and down the hallway to the interrogations area.
There were four small rooms, each completely navy blue with no windows. There were only stools and one-way mirrors to be found in this part of the police station. As Saito approached, he make out some commotion surrounding one of the rooms. Making his way through the crowd he saw the same punk who’d fainted on him earlier inside, lying on a stretcher, being cared for by three paramedics. He felt someone touch his shoulder and turned around.
“Hey,” said Lt. Chad Macalister, “We don’t know what’s wrong with that one, he was fine a minute ago, then he fainted, it’s messed up.”
“Weird, I didn’t even hit that one.” Saito said with a smile. Chad laughed.
In a manner of speaking, Saito and Chad had climbed up the ladder together. Chad had actually worked as a guard at the prison Saito usually found himself incarcerated in, which was where the two had met and befriended one and other. Chad was the only guard who wasn’t scared to death of Saito, and Saito was looking for someone to talk to. Chad had grown up in Queens. He was a thin, blonde man in his early thirties with a goatee. He didn’t look like a cop, but anyone who’d seen him in action or even just on the firing range knew damn well that he was one of the best the force had to offer in terms of marksmanship. But that wasn’t where he really shinned, for Chad Macalister was an expert at the art of interrogation. These two skills had earned him the rank of Lieutenant at a surprisingly young age.
“So what’d you find out before he went?” Saito asked.
“You’re not gonna believe this, but we got a shitload more then we bargained for. Hell, all I asked was where his gang got the dope and he just up and blurted out something about a big deal going down tonight. Apparently Old King Cold is making some serious moves in the power department.”
“Old King Cold? You mean Gerald Frost, the leader of the Red Furs gang?” Saito asked.
“The one and only,” Chad replied.
“So what kind of big move we talking about here? How many kilos?”
“You’re not gonna believe this, but he’s buying out the entire stockpile of the Pierced Crows, the Tolken Brothers, and the Kingpins; A four hundred million dollar buy!”
“What’s that?” said Chief Bradson as he approached them.
Chad explained the whole situation to the chief, including that the deal was occurring at 3:00AM that night at Pier 16 by the old harbor.
“Shit shit shit,” said the chief. “This is way too short notice, I can only send so many men down there, damn it all. Okay, here’s the plan. Chad, I need you in charge of a unit down there, you pick em. All you need to do is watch, we can’t take em now, not with our current manpower situation, a four-gang deal is too much to handle. I just want you to record every damn move that goes down on that dock, understood?”
“Aye aye, cap’n,” replied Chad. “Saito, care to join me?”
“Would I ever turn you down?” Saito replied.
“Well… I suppose it depends on what I’m asking for, like getting that hotdog stand back.”
“Hell no, it’s mine!”
“Okay you two, enough of this childish crap, get to work.” Interrupted the chief. “And remember Chad, you’re the second highest ranking officer in this department, I expect leadership, no joking around.”
“Hey, you didn’t promote me because I was a goofball,” said Chad.
“That’s what I like to hear,” said the chief as he walked off.
It was 2:30AM when Saito and Chad pulled in to warehouse number 6 with a group of eight other officers. Warehouse 6 was about one thousand yards away from the base of the dock labeled Pier 16, and the only lights in the area were facing towards the pier, making this the perfect inconspicuous vantage point. The group set up their visual and audio magnification equipment near the large, plastic windows facing the pier. There was already a small group of gangsters loitering around, but it was impossible to tell who was who with just the naked eye thanks to the distance and dim lighting.
“Alrighty, lets see who we got over there,” murmured Chad as he played with the focus on a photographic telescope. “Hmm, looks like we got members from all three of the selling parties, but no sign of anyone wearing the Red Fur colors.”
“Well, guess we just gotta wait then.” whispered Saito.
As the silent minutes passed, the tension both in the warehouse and on the pier seemed on the rise. Saito could hear his own heartbeat. He wasn’t used to silent stalking; he’d rather be out there busting the gangsters right now. He wondered where they were hiding their dope. Three gangs worth of drugs had to be enough to fill an entire room, or ship. Then it hit him, he noticed a large, old-looking freighter parked next to the dock behind the gang members.
“Hey Chad…”
“I know, I see it, that’s gotta be where the dope is.” Chad interrupted.
More tense silence. Each minute felt like an hour to Saito, he looked at his watch. It was now 3:15AM. Where were the Red Furs? He looked out at the gang members, he knew they were armed to the teeth, and that they weren’t exactly friendly with each other. Two of them started yelling, and members of their respective gangs looked as if they were on the brink of declaring an all out, three-way war.
Finally, at about 3:20AM, a lone black suburban pulled up to the pier. All the gang members stopped their quibbling and silenced, looking suspiciously at the Suburban for any signs of life.
“That must be Old King Cold himself,” whispered Chad. “Get the equipment ready for recording.”
“Sir,” said one of the cops. “We’ve lost audio.”
“What?” Chad said, upset. “Damn… We need someone to get in there and listen.”
“I’ll go,” said Saito. “I’m good at being inconspicuous.”
“But you can’t hold your temper. No, you stay put, wait… what’s going on there.” Chad said, pointing at the Suburban.
Three doors opened, and three figured emerged. Two of them were decked out in Red Fur colors and packing supped-up MP-5’s. The third was a tall, thin man with straight, black hair that went down past his shoulders. He was wearing a long, white coat that went past his knees, and had on what appeared to be red-tinted sunglasses. Through the telescope the cops could make out a single word printed across the back of his coat in black, “Serpent”. Saito couldn’t guess his age, which bothered him for some reason, perhaps because he always liked to know the age of those he knew he was going to hate.
“Is that Old King Cold?” asked Saito.
“No, I don’t know who that is, must be some new muscle for the man up top.” Replied Chad.
“Ah, right… Well, let’s see what there’re up to.”
One member from each gang approached the cryptic looking man in white, each holding a briefcase. He waved them off, holding up his own briefcase that he had handcuffed to his wrist. Removing a key slowly from his pocket, he unlocked the handcuffs and held out the briefcase. The three members of each gang began to approach a second time, more enthusiastically. When they were about ten feet from the man, he pulled the briefcase back behind his body, spun around quickly in a full 360, and threw it into the old freighter behind the gang members.
The explosion, although relatively small, was more than enough to sink the freighter and knock the gang members from their feet. The two MP-5 toting Red Furs opened up, and a massacre ensued.
“Shit Chad, we gotta do something!” Yelled Saito.
“MOVE IN!” ordered Chad, “Take those three men into custody ALIVE if possible, but be ready to defend yourselves!”
Saito was the fastest of the cops, and was the first person to get close enough to pull out his gun and yell, “Hands up! Police!” The two MP-5 Red Furs were caught in the process of reloading, and, to Saito’s surprise, complied with his request, lowing their weapons to the ground. The man in the white coat looked at Saito and smiled, slowly, maniacally. Before he knew what had happened, Saito saw a flash of light and realized that a knife was heading straight for his forehead at a dangerously high velocity. He managed to duck just in time to feel a whiff of air through his hair. He heard a shout from behind him, and turned in time to see Chad falling down, the knife stuck in his gut. All the hair on Saito’s body felt as if it were pointing straight out, he whirled on the man in white, but all he saw was the tail end of his coat as he jumped off the dock. Saito ran to the edge, but the fifteen seconds it took him to get there were all the man needed to evade him. Saito couldn’t even tell which direction he was heading in.
Saito looked down at his gun. Why hadn’t he fired a shot? Why didn’t he kill the man when he had the chance? Two years ago that’s exactly what he would’ve done, none of this arresting crap, it was shoot first, no, kill first and ask questions later. Those who were guilty deserved no more than that. His eyes went teary as he looked at the limp body of his friend. Two other cops were already kneeling by it, calling into their radios for emergency backup and medical support. The two other Red Furs were lying face down on the dock, arrested by the remaining officers. Saito looked out over the water and felt himself doing something he hadn’t done since he was sixteen. He stood there and silently wept for his friend.
Saito didn’t sleep that night. He went to the hospital and stayed by Chad’s unconscious side until the body finally gave in and died. The knife had severely ruptured his Spleen, causing massive hemorrhaging and blood poisoning. There was nothing the doctors could do. He watched them put his body into storage, and then left for the police station.
Saito stormed over to the interrogation room containing the two guards and glared through the one-way mirror. He saw Chief Bradson looming over one of the Red Furs, looking more intimidating than a hungry Tiger. Saito stood and watched the same routine over and over for more than an hour. Finally, the chief stepped out of the room.
“What’s the story on Chad?” He asked, glumly.
“He didn’t make it…” said Saito, quietly.
The chief gave a solemn nod. “I’m sorry, Saito I-”
“Don’t,” Saito interrupted, “If anyone’s to blame it’s me, but I doubt he’d want that. What did you find out from these bastards?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“What?”
“You heard me, nothing at all.”
“Are you serious? Are you trying hard enough!?” Saito said, getting visibly upset.
“These guys are as hard as rocks Saito, I can’t get anything out of them.”
Saito looked through the one-way mirror, “Rocks can be broken, sir.”
“What was that?”
“I said, rocks can be broken, sir. You just have to hit them the right way.”
“I hope for your sake that you’re not implying what I think you are, Saito. Torture is NOT a policy of the NYPD.”
“FUCK POLICY!” yelled Saito, “Policy is what got my friend killed! Policy is what let HIM escape! Policy is why the streets never get any safer!”
“Mieage that’s enough!” shouted Bill as he slammed his palm into the wall, “You need sleep, I can’t afford to have one of my better officers go awol at a time like this, get yourself home, that’s an order.”
Saito looked at Bill, looked at him long and hard. He knew that his chief was right, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he didn’t want to give in to sleep. He wanted to do something, wanted to track down that awful man. But Bill’s eyes were steadfast.
“Fine, I’m leaving, but expect to see me back here in five hours.” Saito said, walking away.
It was almost 8:00AM, and Saito decided to walk home, he usually either took the subway or caught a ride with any cruiser he saw on the street. It was a short walk, less than thirty minutes. Saito was approaching the front of his apartment building when he noticed something different, something a bit off. His doorman wasn’t outside for one thing, and there was a black Mercedes parked on the opposite side of the road. He figured at least some caution was in order, but in his tired state he found himself moving much clumsier than usual. He didn’t stand a chance when the six of them jumped him. Normally he’d have at least been able to take a few down, but they were tough and he was tired. He felt a soaked rag press against his mouth. He held his breath for as long as he could, but eventually he let the Chloroform win, and slipped into unconsciousness.
The trees were blossoming, and the air was crisp, clean, and clear. Saito looked at the sky, there were small puffs of clouds floating aimlessly around. He looked down and saw that he was standing in mid air, looking down upon the world. He felt weightless, his soul was soaring. He was God, looking down upon mankind. He heard a voice to his left, or was it his right? He couldn’t tell. Regardless, he felt a warm, caring presence. He looked above him, and saw his sister, starring at him from the sky.
“Sai-chan, you’re such a silly boy, dreaming about the perfect world, the perfect life. A perfect world for you involves only your happiness, your own justice, but we can’t exist like that. One person’s dream is another’s nightmare. The meaning of life? You’re such a silly boy, Sai-chan. It’s time for you to wake up, and remember, I’m happy as long as you’re alive and well. Just don’t go around thinking that you’re a God.”
Her image faded, twisted, and finally turned into the ceiling of a dark room. Saito didn’t sit up, he didn’t even move. He had no idea where he was or how sticky a situation he was in, so he remained still, pretending to sleep. After what felt like ages, he finally heard a door open, and the sounds of men walking in. He felt himself get picked up by his ankles. They were dragging him somewhere. He felt four hands on his legs, and heard two distinct sets of footsteps. Saito snuck a quick peak out of one eye and saw that they were in a long, well-lit corridor with Victorian style paintings all over it. He heard no other footsteps, so he assumed that these men were alone. Right before they hit the double doors at the end of the corridor he decided to make his move. Lurching out with his right leg, he kicked one of the men directly in the kidney, and then, using his arms for support against the ground, flung himself around counter-clockwise, hitting the other man in the face with his right foot. The first thug was still conscious, so Saito sprung up and hit him with an uppercut to the jaw. The man flew a solid four feet and landed on his back, out cold.
Saito dusted himself off and looked around more carefully. There were no windows in the corridor, and the walls were an intricate mixture of red, maroon, gray, and brown. The pictures all appeared to be of Medieval and seventeenth century royalty. ‘This could only be the house of a drug lord,’ he thought to himself. He ran down the corridor towards the door the thugs had been dragging him to. He figured he might as well try to figure out why he hadn’t been killed right away, and he’d already seen what was through the other door, so why not try for something new? Saito burst through the double doors to find a large room with walls very similar to the corridor he was just in, only there were windows in this one. This was comforting to Saito, he needed reassurance that there was still an outside world. On the opposite side of the room, Saito saw a desk with a large, red chair facing the away from him.
“Let me guess, Old King Cold?” Saito asked, in a mocking manner, “So what am I doing still alive? Why not just kill me? Do I threaten your boys enough to warrant a kidnapping and perhaps some good old-fashioned torture? And why kill the other gangs and destroy their dope? Why not just take it for yourself? Huh? Well? Are you gonna answer me? Is there anybody home back there?”
Saito moved slowly, cautiously around the right edge of the room. He wondered what the deal was with the silence. When he finally made it around to where he could see Old King Cold, he jumped backwards in shock. What was left of Gerald Frost, once considered to be the most powerful drug lord in NYC, was a body that was missing most of the neck. There were maggots devouring his face as well, Saito could tell that this corpse had been dead for at least a few days. He heard a voice behind him, and whirled around to see the man in the white coat, looking straight at him from the doorway.
“Saito Mieage,” he said, “The Crimson Blade of the East, the man who killed without remorse. A sinful, vengeful spirit who punished those who were evil. We’re not so different, you and I.”
His voice was deep, but not intimidating, it almost sounded friendly to Saito, which frightened him a little.
“Who the fuck are you?” asked Saito.
“If you must call me something, you may call me Jeremy.”
“What are you trying to do here? I thought you were Frost’s muscle, why kill him?”
“Gerald Frost, an evil, empty shell of a man… I left his body for the maggots, it seemed only fitting for one of his kind, don’t you agree? Ah, but you asked why, didn’t you? Well, I was muscle for Frost, but in truth I was actually the one who was using him. I needed some means of obtaining power, of obtaining respect. That was the only way my plans would ever work, I needed to be known in the underworld, and Mr. Frost was in need of a… talented right hand man. Once his gang had more respect for me than him, I simply cleared out some of the excess baggage.”
“So why destroy the dope? Why destroy the other gangs? Why not take it all for yourself? You’d be the most powerful gang out there.”
“My goodness Saito, you’ve got me completely misunderstood. I have no intentions of becoming a syndicate boss, my motives are entirely different. What I want, is to create paradise.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Saito, somewhat taken aback.
“Paradise, a land of complete and utter joy. I want a new world order, today’s society is a plague, a plague filled with nothing but corruption and deceit. I figured you of anyone would agree to that, after what happened to your dear, precious sister.”
Saito glared at him.
“How do you know about that?” Saito asked through gritted teeth.
“Oh I know everything about you, Saito. Your early career fascinated me. You see, I too have lost family to corrupt authorities. My wife, and my daughter were killed in Bolivia some time ago, funny how the chaos down there was directly spawned by this countries thirst for the preservation of Capitalism. But I will put an end to all of that, I will create a new world, a new humanity, one where nobody will suffer, because I will control everything.”
“You’re insane,” said Saito. “How do you plan to do that?”
Jeremy smiled, and pulled out a small bag of white powder from his inside coat pocket.
“This is the new Omega strain of anthrax, it spreads like wildfire and is completely undetectable. Remember that gangster who fainted in the police interrogation room? He should be dead within another six hours. There is no cure, no post-exposure treatment, only a vaccine, and I’m the one who gets to pick who gets it and who doesn’t. I will choose who is fit to live and who is fit to die. Like Mr. Frost, I will rid humanity of its excess baggage. After all, only a select few are worthy to live in paradise.”
Saito looked at him and laughed out loud.
“So you plan to create a new world by destroying the old one? You’re a fool, using ends to justify means logic. What you don’t see is that the means and the ends are intertwined. You can’t have an idealistic dream that’s reached through means that go directly against your ideals. Kill Billions of innocent people and start over? What bullshit. You don’t even realize that your happiness could mean sadness for others. You’re like a selfish child. I pity you, I honestly do, Jeremy. Your worse than I used to be. You think you’re God, when all you are is a murderer.”
Jeremy was visibly shaken by this little outburst, it had taken him totally off guard. He was certain that Saito would agree, that he of all people would understand what he was trying to do. But he was just like the rest of them.
“This is indeed, a shame.” Jeremy stated. “I was hoping, I really was, that you’d be willing to work with me for the common good of mankind, for a new, perfect beginning. But now I see that you’ve been corrupted.” He pulled a gun out of his left sock and pointed it directly at Saito.
The pain was sudden and sharp, Saito had been stabbed, beaten, and hit with a bowling ball before, but he’d never been shot. The bullet pulsed through his left shoulder, and exited out through his back. He fell to the ground, but his thoughts remained intact, and he managed to control his body enough to tell it to play dead.
Jeremy slowly walked over to him, casually pointing the gun directly at his head. Saito knew he had to act now before Jeremy got a second shot off, he bolted his right fist upwards from the ground, hitting the gun out of Jeremy’s hand in across the room.
Saito lost himself in the fight. He fell completely into the flow of things, much like when he’d ride his bicycle through the city. He’d dodge the cars without really paying attention. Jeremy was skillful, and both men proceeded to pound the crap out of each other for what felt like hours. Left jab, duck, parry, right cross, sidekick, jump, sweep, uppercut, repeat. They were exhausted, but they continued fighting beyond their body’s’ limits, neither side willing to give up. They circled around the room, lashing their limbs at their opponent’s sensitive areas, doing damage and being damaged at the same time. Finally the fight made its way to the desk in front of the chair. Jeremy threw open one of the drawers and yanked out a long knife. But the moment’s hesitation he took in order to focus on grabbing the knife was enough for Saito to get his legs. Jeremy was flipped backwards over the chair, landing on Frost’s corpse and dropping the knife. Saito grabbed it and ran it through the back to the chair, through Frost’s corpse, and finally through Jeremy himself, pinning him to the chair. Jeremy was dead within seconds. It was over.
Saito fell down on the floor, exhausted. His shoulder hurt worse than any pain he’d ever felt, but he still managed to fall into a deep slumber. He dreamed about his sister again, and Chad, and how happy they must be up in Heaven. ‘Yes, Heaven, the true paradise,’ thought Saito. He wondered if he would ever make his way up there, but he was too tired to even care. He was underwater this time, and surrounded by light. His spirit floated through his dream in a state of bliss, and he never wanted it to end.
Four days later he woke up in a hospital. Chief Bradson was immediately notified and personally informed Saito of the operation that had taken place while he was sleeping.
“Yep, we got it all. All the Omega anthrax is gone, and we got us the recipe for the vaccine too, just in case.” he’d said.
Saito was happy that the world remained as it was, but he still decided to take a break from his police duties, at least for now anyways. A month later he was gone from the city. The last thing anyone in NYC saw Saito Mieage doing was buying a used Toyota and some gas in the Bronx. After that, who knows?
End
